Memoirs of the Underground
by Chibi-no-oneesan
Summary: JxS In which Sarah tumbles into the Underground once again in search of misbegotten underthings, gets roaring drunk, and passes out in Jareth's arms. Chapter 4 up!
1. Prologue

_AN: Minimum wage in 1991 was $4.25._

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Memoirs of the Underground

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Prologue

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It had been five long years since Sarah had defeated the Goblin King's Labyrinth and reclaimed her brother. Five long, boring years of responsibility and day to day life. For a woman who had first-hand knowledge of the existence of other worlds, working her way through school on minimum wage and attending college was rather mundane. She had danced with the fireys. She had freed a yeti. She had bribed a dwarf into betraying his king. These days, the closest she got to adventure was defying her step-mother by picking the art college that she wanted, rather than the 'sensible' one Karen felt was logical and responsible.

So, Sarah carried on with her day to day existence. She was majoring in Performing Arts at the local college and when she wasn't at work or school she still took care of the baby brother who had been the catalyst to her fantastic adventure five years ago. Toby was now a bright-eyed, imaginative six year old boy. After her adventure which had shown her how much she actually cared about him, Sarah had begun to enjoy spending time with him. She enjoyed reading to him and telling him stories-watching his eyes widen at the dangerous parts, and listening to his giggles at the funnier parts.

Now and then, she pulled out her little red velvet book and told him the story of the Labyrinth. Sometimes, she told him of her own adventures there.

Still, Sarah was horribly bored, with the exception of those few precious hours a week, when her friends from Underground came through her mirror and told her of their own exploits. She, who craved adventure, who lived, breathed, needed the fantastic in her life, nearly wept from lack of extraordinary happenings within it.

However, Sarah had not allowed day to day life kill her imagination. She still maintained her ability to dream vividly, brilliantly. Her fantastical imagination still spurred her to imagine adventure in her dreary live. She still maintained a strong link to her childhood and refused to let go of her dreams, just as she'd refused to let the Goblin King hand them to her on a silver platter.

After all, what good were dreams if you didn't work to attain them?

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For the mysterious Goblin King it has also been a long five years. While he often thought upon the young girl who had beat him at his own game he remained a busy man with many responsibilities. Governing a kingdom of imbeciles required a very special temperament. Between the day to day correspondence with other kingdoms and dealing with petty squabbles among those in the shadow of his own, it was a wonder he didn't tear his own hair out.

However, the Goblin King was rather vain, and extremely fond of his hair, which is likely the only reason he wasn't already bald.

What few denizens of the Underground knew, due to careful guarding of the secret, was that he also was the guardian of the portals which stretched between his world and the Above. Portals which were created by the imaginations and dreams of the innocent children of the Above as their minds searched to connect to the fantastic. It was an enormously vital task for if an unscrupulous person or creature were to access these portals, they could wreak havoc upon the Above.

The goblins of the Labyrinthian kingdom were some of the few creatures which could access these gateways to the Above. Usually they were used for official matters – retrieving a wished-away child, performing an errand for their king or just routinely patrolling the locations to map where new portals emerged. However, on occasion the goblins had been known to use the portals for mischief.

Young Gip was one such mischievous goblin. He was a goblin with a mission, quite literally. He finally had been told what rite of passage he must perform to be accepted into the group of goblins who were permitted access to the Goblin King's castle and of course, the greatly desired casks of ale therein. Of course it wasn't a rite of passage which _His Majesty_ was aware or nor condoned, however it did exist and young Gip was currently working up his courage greatly to be able to perform the mission he had been handed. His goal was to obtain an article of clothing belonging to one Lady Sarah.

Gip had been carefully briefed on the rules by the older goblins. Go quickly, when it's dark. Don't let yourself be seen. And, most importantly never, ever let a human catch you or follow you through the portal. However, Gip wasn't really worried about being seen or caught. He knew what humans were like from watching the runners of the Labyrinth. The fantastic frightened them and unless slammed over the head with the magical, adults never saw the portals hidden within the dark places throughout their homes, the dark voids under beds, in closets or in dank basements. Nor did these adults whose minds had had their dreams and imaginations sucked from their souls by the grind of everyday life have the ability or willingness to see the magical creatures which used them.

Unfortunately Gip's vast knowledge of the 'normal' adult human would not help him this night, for Lady Sarah was none other than Sarah Williams and she was not exactly known to conform to mundane expectations. So, in the closet he waited, completely unknowing of the rather frightening events that lay in store for the young goblin that night. And then, when the room had gone dark, quiet, and still, Gip crept out, and headed towards the tall six drawer dresser which rested against the wall opposite from the bed.

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	2. Chapter 1

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_AN: In this chapter, a two hundred eighty dollar bra is stolen. If you find yourself wondering what a bra that expensive looks like, refer to this website: _.com/USA/servlet/SetIDWebObject?ID=9952&IDType=prd&&ColorValueID=0050

_When you pick up your jaw, and begin wondering why she even has a bra that expensive, I completely chalk it up to Sarah's ever so repressed inner princess._

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Memoirs of the Underground

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Chapter 1

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Sarah Williams loved to cook and she was quite good at it. She liked making dinner, she enjoyed creating cakes and cookies, and she even relished coming up with her own recipes, regardless of the outcome. She was a passable enough chef that her step-mother sometimes let her prepare dinners on nights when Karen and her father wouldn't be home until late, rather than submitting she and Toby to the endless supplies of pizza and take-out.

Unfortunately, she also loathed the cleaning process that was required after her forays into creating these culinary delights. As Sarah was currently possessed of a consuming impulse to go downstairs and whip up her famous seven layer chocolate cake this abhorrence was a _bit_ of a problem at the moment. Gigantic gooey cake equaled an equally large mess that she simply did _not_ have the energy to clean up. 'Well, it _is_ midnight after all...' she mused, 'give a girl a break.'

This quandary is what had her still sitting up in her room rather than going downstairs to do said cooking in her step-mother's kitchen. Oh, that chocolate called to her! But, she really didn't want to have to clean up the mess she'd undoubtedly kick up in her whirlwind of movement through the room. Perhaps she'd make do with one of Toby's favorite cans of chicken noodle soup – she was hungry enough.

Unfortunately, she knew if she did, that's still one bowl, one spoon and a pan that would require washing.

So, instead she did nothing and lay on her bed, pretending she didn't hear the errant growling in her stomach. Pretense, after all, was something she was very good at. Always had been, as a matter of fact. Her father liked to joke that she was born to strange sights, and she wondered idly, if her father really had _any _idea about just how strange the sights she was born to really were.

'Highly unlikely,' she thought with a grin.

Now and then he'd jest that she was destined for a life of adventure, but she'd never told him that she'd already _had_ the escapade of a lifetime five years ago, long before entering college, and even before starting her first job. In fact, she'd go as far as to say that despite her sometimes boring life, the urge to go adventuring again still hit her gently now and then, a subtle pang in her heart. Usually she ignored it, as there was little she could do to indulge it, save participating in Toby's frequent flights of fancy.

That was – and always had been – a sore point between she and Karen. When Sarah had disregarded her feelings about college, suggesting she dedicate herself to something which might pay her bills rather than acting, which had always been her dream and passion. While she could understand Karen's reasoning, Sarah had learned ages ago that things you didn't fight for were probably not as important to you as you let on.

Eventually, Karen had given up her fight, not expecting Sarah to encourage her _brother_ to follow the path of a 'failure' as well. She always grew very cross when she heard Sarah telling Toby stories, saw them playing games together, often questioning what Toby learned at school. She'd never told him school wasn't important, had never implied that fantasy was more important than reality, however, Toby's imagination was as keen as hers had always been, possibly due to their five years of near constant contact.

It wasn't like their parents intentionally ignored them. Sarah knew that. It was simply something she'd grown to accept as an inevitability. Her father had been promoted to partner at the firm two years prior, and so nearly every party, Karen and Robert Williams were expected to show up. Now and then those parties strayed into the Williams home and during those, the true friction between Karen and Sarah would peak.

Karen had been telling her since she was fifteen that she should date, find a decent man so that she could learn what a relationship between a man and woman should be like. So she could learn how to solve relationship problems and to help her mature that last little bit which Sarah hadn't quite grown into yet. It always frustrated Sarah because she didn't _want_ a relationship with any of the twenty-somethings Karen shoved at her. These were people that Karen thought would provide her with the money required to pay the bills.

Sarah often retreated to her room and locked the door during those parties, calling upon her friends to help her deal with her frustration. Hoggle would point out that the older woman was simply worried about her, which she knew. Sir Didymus would pat her hand and remind her that her step-mother wasn't expecting her to marry any of these younger men. Sarah would shrug helplessly and say that she didn't feel anything with them. No anger, no anticipation, not even the tiniest modicum of affection.

She'd told them both she'd just as soon date a goblin before she'd date one of these men that were mostly boys, who thought that just because they made a little money she'd drop into their beds in a heart beat. Karen had sworn they didn't have that on their mind, but Karen hadn't had to go on the pointless dates which always seemed to end with them trying to stick their hand up her shirt or tongue down her throat.

It was detestable, disgusting. She often found herself relieved that her little brother waited up for her on nights when she had dates. It gave her a reason to cut contact short at eight thirty, much to Karen's consternation. Still, Sarah did tell him a story every night, if from the trip through the Labyrinth or something that was a mental flight of fancy. His particular favorites were and always had been stories about the Labyrinth and the creatures within it.

So every day she'd look up something to spin a story about, telling him about the story of her own trip through the Labyrinth, sometimes weaving stories from what she'd learned from books regarding goblins and other mythical creatures. She'd even drawn illustrations for these creatures, some of which were genuinely gruesome in both description and character.

Karen despised those pictures repeatedly stating she wished Sarah would take them down. Her father however teased about her ability to find beauty in the ugliest of figurines, and find light in the even darkest of pictures. She grinned, wondering what he'd think if he ever met Hoggle, her dearest, oldest friend from her time in the Underground. Sure, he was old, cranky, and was deathly afraid of the sovereign ruler of the Labyrinth, but he had gotten her out of some very tight spots.

Like the Humongous. Sarah thought fondly of that moment in the Goblin City when she had seen the terrifying guard brought low by the dwarf. He was so much braver than he gave himself credit for...

He was the first true friend she'd ever had. She'd tried making friends in high school, after her trip through the Labyrinth, as well as in college, but most of the students viewed her as a little strange. They would speak to her, would work with her on projects, but she didn't feel particularly close to any of them. Often, she found that in large crowds, she still felt rather alone.

To them she was strange, to herself she was unique. That was perfectly okay with her.

She smiled, rolling onto her side, looking at the single bookend on her desk. She'd found it about eight years ago at a yard sale, and the other had been slightly damaged, so she took the single whole one home, not knowing that it shared a face with someone who would one day be her best friend. In fact, her friend of five years had noticed it a few times and given her a look of perplexed puzzlement. She simply smiled and waved it off.

That same desk was strewn with gauzy silk scarves, glittery costume jewelry, Mardi Gras beads – earned on a trip to New Orleans, not that she'd ever tell her father HOW she got them – her music box from her birth mother's new husband, and that curious figurine that greatly resembled a certain Goblin King. Her gaze focused on the wild mass of platinum blond hair and for the umpteenth time, teased around the few memories she had of the egotistical, slightly fascinating, overdressed megalomaniac.

As she stared, she caught sight of something rummaging in the dark through the top drawer of her dresser out of the corner of her eye. She frowned, sitting up slowly. She grabbed the cord on the light by her bed, giving it a swift jerk. The light came on, and she found a goblin, for it was too small to be much else, stiffen and turn slowly towards her. Big, wide watery eyes stared at her, planted in the middle of a rather frog-like face. She didn't take a moment to notice how petrified it looked. Instead, she acted.

She lunged for it, reaching for it's ankle, but it dove head first into the back of her drawer. She reached her drawer, driving her hand into it, but it only hit the wood at the back. There was no goblin was hiding amongst her intimates. She frowned faintly, digging a little harder, trying to find any hint of how exactly that goblin had gotten into, or more importantly out of her room.

Oddly, she found nothing.

With a shrug, she simply decided they must be able to get in and out in similar fashion to the Goblin King. Essentially poofing in and out of existence, perhaps with a shower of glitter, or the faintest hint of that (rather enticing) spicy scent which followed him. She took a moment to inventory her underwear, making sure none were missing. As she turned, she noticed that her closet door was slightly cracked and with a shrug, she pushed it closed till it latched fully.

Well, now that she was vertical, she noticed that chewing hunger in her stomach all the more. It gave a loud, almost grumbling sound and she sighed, patting her belly.

She should just go on downstairs, help herself to a sandwich, and see what was on the television. First, it would get something into her, while giving minimal cleanup, and perhaps a bit of television would help her finally get to sleep.

She snatched up her bathrobe, wrapping it around herself, and headed towards the door. There was the faintest flickering light from the lower level, telling her that her six year old brother was out of bed, and quite possibly as hungry as she. With a broad grin, she crept downstairs, finding her brother was indeed sitting and watching a movie featuring a large scaled monster destroying a city.

Ah yes, her brother's intense love for monster movies strikes again. Then again, she'd probably only fed his love of monsters with her nearly constant tales of her trip through the Labyrinth. For whatever reason, ten hours of pain and misery made a damn good story in hindsight.

She leaned against the doorway. "Hiya, Toby."

He let out a startled cry and whirled on her. "Don't _do_ that, Sarah!" he whispered fiercely. In his lap was a bowl of popcorn. He was munching on it by the fistful.

She grinned, going over and sitting down beside him. She divested him of the bowl, and leaned towards him. "What ya watching?" she asked, feeling like the cat that cornered a canary.

He huffed. "Two hundred channels and the only thing on at midnight is telemarketing, TV Evangelists, and porn. They should show something better for spring break!" he complained. "But there's a Godzilla marathon, so I guess it's not _completely_ hopeless."

She looked at him, startled. "Toby, _how_ do you know what porn is?"

He looked at her, knowingly. "Been in dad's office lately?" he asked evenly. "Bootylicious just got added to his collection." He looked at her. "I'm six. I'm not stupid."

Sarah covered her mouth to keep from roaring with laughter and made a mental note to tell her dad he needed to relocate his collection because her baby brother had managed to find it. The boy had always been a little too sharp for the adults comfort, even before he'd developed the ability to speak. Now and then he'd give this look that said 'don't treat me like a child because of my age. A frown turned down her lips as she realized that her brother wasn't supposed to be in that particular room in the first place. "Wait a second, what were you doing in Dad's office? You know he doesn't let you play in there..."

He frowned deeply. "I heard giggling. I went in to see what was going on. All of his cabinet doors were open. Drawers too. Three of his videos were on the floor and the rest looked like they'd been flipped out every which way. Weird. I figure it was our home gnomes."

"Or hobgoblins." Sarah muttered. "I just caught one in my underwear drawer." .

"Why do you think they steal stuff from here, anyways?"

She scowled. "Beats me. But I know where it goes. Did I ever tell you about the junk heaps outside the city walls in the Underground?" She asked softly. She saw his eyes light up and knew she had his attention. Toby always enjoyed her tales of the Underground. There was something she'd almost call disbelief in those beautiful blue orbs as he turned the idea over in his head.

"Junk heaps?"

"Yeah. Piles of...junk. Pots, pans, the odd television set, and a few old toys. Seriously. Piles and piles. It was like a garbage mountain range," Sarah explained.

"Mount Trashmore?" he joked, giggling.

"Yup." She laughed at his pun, seeing the disbelieving expression on his face. "I really never told you about that part?"

He frowned faintly. "I'm beginning to feel like you gave me a _edited_ version of your trip." He complained, glowering at her.

She choked. He stood staring at her, blond hair askew with his hands on his hips...and that _glare_. Ten hours in the presence of his His Royal Arrogance. Onlyten hours-at age one! So why was he doing the impression to end all impressions, t-shirt and baggy sleep pants non-withstanding? "Stop that. You look just like the Goblin King, Toby. Really. It's creepy-"

There was a shrill giggle from upstairs.

They both froze.

Sarah fumed. "If those creeps are in my freaking underwear drawer again, I swear by all that's holy when I get my hands on their stinking backsides...I'm going to _kill_ 'em." She was up in less than a moment. "Toby, wait here. I should be back soon!" She took the stairs three at a time, and just as she opened her door, she saw a trail of lacy objects lying on the floor and clutched in a small green hand was her favorite, very expensive, lilac lace bra! She let out a shriek that sounded like steam leaving a tea kettle. "Oh that is _it!_ You little snot, that's my _best bra_!" she practically screamed, chasing it as it darted into her closet.

She dove, missing its ankles by about an inch. She crawled into her closet, and crawled and crawled farther still. Sarah blinked. Wait a minute, her closet wasn't _that _deep. Frowning, she crept forward again, and then stretched her arm out in front of her. What the hell? She tried to look behind herself, but the space was too cramped. With a shrug, she began moving forward again, since it appeared that the only way to go backwards really _was_ to go forwards. The thought made her grin a bit.

After a few minutes, she noticed that the closet was growing brighter, rather than darker. Where the hell was this going, she wondered, her brow furrowing in confusion.

She crawled farther still, noting that the sensation of something soft under her fingers. It vaguely reminded her of moss on a tree log. Bright light appeared before her as she turned around the last corner and she winced as her eyes had become adjusted to the intense darkness.

She crept out of the tunnel and gazed at her surroundings, stunned. Spread out in a lush valley was a small, peaceful looking village. In the field nearby, there was a charcoal brazier and at least thirty people. Between those people, Sarah caught sight of a small goblin with her pale lilac lace, two hundred eighty dollar bra trailing behind it. The wonder of the view died in an instant. "You _cretin_, give me back my bra!!" she cried, chasing after it, wishing desperately that she'd had the foresight to bring some kind of weapon.

Many people in the small group looked up and backed out of her way, as though to prove they were not a 'cretin', nor did they possess her 'bra'.

She picked up such great speed on the way down the hill that she was quite unable to stop. She ran, headlong into a tall woman with long, honey colored hair. Both cried out unintelligibly in surprise as Sarah bowled the woman over, rolled head over heals herself, then, finally, came to a stop. She'd rolled at least five feet and now had a pain in the ass where she'd flipped over a rock, and a wicked headache. She swore viciously. "Little _bastard_...the things I'll do when I get my hands on him!" She stood, rubbing her backside, turning to apologize to the woman she'd just knocked over.

She blinked and gaped in disbelief.

The woman's head was tilted back in laughter. Holding her sides, and practically guffawing. Sarah chuckled faintly, and allowed the amusement of the onlookers to give her perspective of how, exactly, she must have looked - tearing down that hill in her fuzzy slippers and with her bathrobe over her pajamas, screaming her head off, and shaking her first. She began giggling at the mental image, the forced herself to apologize. "I'm _really _sorry, I didn't mean to run into you."

The woman waved off her concern. "Trust me, dear, if that goblin has been in your intimates, bowling me over is the least of your concerns..." She laughed, accepting a hand and standing. "My name is Morghanne." She wiped the grass from her palms and offered her right hand in greeting. "I'm Sarah," she stated, shaking the woman's hand firmly. Sarah tried not to look jealous as she noted that the skin was smooth, clear, and freckle-free. The exact opposite of her own.

There were murmurs of interest and speculative looks among those gathered. Sarah looked around. "Where is this?"

Morghanne stepped back, extending her arms in a stance that looked both remarkably inclusive and hospitable at once. "This is Wiccadale. Come and be welcome."

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	3. Chapter 2

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_AN: These notes are for the knowledge of the reader. Ostara, or Easter, is a celebration of the goddess Ostar (various spellings are used). Easter, though considered a celebration of the resurrection of Christ, is held paralleling the Wiccan Sabbat (Ostara). There are actually a lot of reasons for this. The primary reason for this, was to make it easier to convert the pagans when Christianity began to overtake the land. If were told 'Hey, go to church on THIS day, you get to celebrate your own way at night, and we'll stop burning you at the stake', it sounded like a pretty good deal. Several holidays on the Christian calendar parallel pagan holidays in a similar manner. I may/may not get into that later._

_**A **_**important****_ side note: This chapter features a character who goes by the name Nuada and is Jareth's older brother. This is _not_ the same Nuada from "Hellboy II: The Golden Army". It is a name from Irish Mythology which I liked and decided to use._**

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Memoirs of the Underground

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Chapter 2

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Sarah nibbled on the 'fairy cake' she'd accepted, only after being assured that it didn't contain actual fairy. Her concern drew laughter from many of the crowd. It wasn't her fault. Beastly little things or no, she didn't really fancy nibbling on miniature humanoids with wings.

It was explained to her that they were in the process of celebrating a holiday, one called Ostara, which although though it was at its height today, still included another day of celebration to go. They told her that it was a celebration of the marriage between the Maiden and the Young Lord - whoever they might be, however, Sarah had no clue. She decided to sit with her new acquaintances and take in the festivities, since by now her brother was likely sleeping.

Then again, she didn't really know that time passed the same here as it did Above. For all she knew, she'd been away for days, in which case, she'd be apologizing profusely to her family for scaring the liver out of them.

She'd been telling a few of the smaller children of her exploits in the Labyrinth, but with none of the frightening parts like the oubliette, or the cleaners, or even the Bog of Eternal Stench. Instead she spoke of other things like the doors of Lies and Truth and the little Caterpillar at the entrance who had shown her how to enter the Labyrinth. They listened to her in rapt silence, eyes shining.

She'd always loved telling stories, but she wasn't certain how much of her escapade their parents wanted them hearing when they would likely be going to bed soon. After all, not all of it was appropriate. Not even Toby knew everything that had happened, because she didn't want him to have nightmares. Maybe in a few years she'd share that information, but not now.

Morghanne rescued her just as she was running out of child-friendly material. Sarah joined the adults, who were getting rather drunk and bawdy, and they taught her a few sea-shanties. She found herself, oddly enough, at home in this rather strange group. They didn't laugh at her dreams or tell her that she should get a 'proper' job that would support herself until she got a husband. They didn't say that it was foolish to fight for the things you wanted in life.

For the first time in a long time, she felt completely comfortable, as if she were truly a part of this little community, unlike at home, where she ordinarily felt like she should be pretending to be someone different so that she would be welcomed into the lives of others, even if it wasn't really _her _they were welcoming.

After at least an hour of singing and a couple of glasses of ale the women began grilling her on the details of her trip through the Labyrinth and they were NOT interested in the 'child-friendly' version. In fact, she got the distinct impression that they were hoping for something a little more X-rated than her peach dream.

'As if the Goblin King himself wasn't bawdy enough,' Sarah thought wryly, remembering that he wore his pants especially tight and showed more chest than a stripper in Vegas. She wondered if that _was_ his 'child-friendly' costume and quickly stopped her imagination which threatened to consider what he may wear for _adults_. Suspiciously, she looked into her mug. It must be the ale.

"Was he very bold?" one woman asked, looking prim but sounding devious. There was a thirst in her eye. What was it with these women and that guy?! Sarah would have liked to say that she didn't understand the allure, but what was the point in lying to herself? It was those damn pants. She laid the entirety of the blame on his habit for wearing criminally tight breeches. Yes, those little scraps which in her world could barely be called leggings. They were so tight, they were practically indecent-

"Look, she's blushing," one of women laughingly pointed out.

Sarah sputtered. "I am _not_ blushing-"

"_Definitely_ blushing," agreed another female voice with humor.

"I guess that answers the question!" Another laughed.

"That... _person_ was the most insufferable, rude, arrogant jerk I've ever met!" she objected.

"That doesn't mean he isn't hot," another pointed out. "Looks excellent for his age, so I hear..." The leading insinuations were going to make Sarah go quite deaf. "And from what I understand there's nothing wrong under that codpiece either!" piped up a small voice playfully.

Sarah choked on the bite of cake in her mouth. She stared at the person who'd uttered that last bit and blinked. She was old enough to be Sarah's grandmother. The woman just winked at her.

"Was he really _that_ terrible?"

Sarah looked up as Morghanne spoke, seeing a faint smile on the woman's face. Sarah pondered that question. Her instant, perhaps even conditioned response was a resounding_ '_yes', however, as she considered, she found that despite acting the part of the perfect villain, he hadn't really been nearly as bad as he could have been. He had never truly caused her harm, perhaps with the exception of a little psychological trauma from running away from the cleaners. He'd been rather fond of invading her personal space, but had never set a hand upon her during those ten hours. "I suppose not, now that you mention it. I guess... in his _own way_, he was generous," she allowed. "But let's face it, when I wished away my brother, the last thing I expected was..."

"The male embodiment of lust and female fantasy to waltz in to taunt you with a voice like sin?" Morghanne offered helpfully.

Sarah pouted. "You make it sound like you know him."

"Of course I do, Sarah." She smiled at the girl. "I've met the Goblin King. Most of the residents of Wiccadale have."

She looked up at the woman, who was waiting patiently for Sarah to ask what was on her mind. Her demeanor suddenly made Sarah wonder just how old she was and where she was _from_. "You wished away a child too?"

"Yes, I did. A very long time ago. Unlike you, however, I failed to complete the Labyrinth. Since I truly loved my sister, the Goblin King was – as you said – generous. He didn't turn my sibling into a goblin as I thought he would. Instead, he asked her what she wished... and she wished to be with me. So, here we are. I've been repenting for my sin for a long time."

Sarah felt a nervous trembling in the pit of her stomach. Had she failed, would she and Toby be living here with these women? Would she have been allowed to live in peace with her baby brother in this village of people that she felt comfortable with, or would he have done as he threatened and turned him into a goblin? Come to think of it, had he ever said 'goblin'? Or had that simply been her mind leaping to conclusions? Had he expected her to draw that conclusion so that she'd fight for her brother?

Her mind was beginning to spin from all the unanswered running through it.

"From what I understand, the king almost never turns anyone into goblins anymore," another woman mentioned. "Too many of those already. For a several years it seemed there were new children here every day."

"I don't think the poor king fancied having that many of the little buggers to watch over! They really mean no harm but they aren't the smartest lot," the older woman explained wisely. "And the trouble they get into with their mischief...I _certainly_ wouldn't wish to be in his position."

Sarah felt as though she were desperately grasping at ground that was crumbling under her fingers. It was as though everything she knew about the Underground and the Goblin King was being tipped upside down. She lowered her gaze to the cake in her hand. These women had been honest with her it appeared. She gathered her courage to try and return their honesty. "To answer your questions, yes, he was bold. He was terrifying, and beautiful and the megalomaniac jerk stole three of my thirteen hours," she complained, frustrated. "Pardon me if my fifteen year old self didn't pay much attention to the _assets_ you mention when I was a bit busy-"

"Oh Sarah, don't misunderstand, we're only asking questions because, at the time, _we_ weren't paying much attention either." Morghanne laughed brightly then slapped her thighs. "Now, Mistress Sarah, would you care to join us in a dance?"

That snapped Sarah out of her reverie. She inclined her head. "I'm really not much of a dancer," she warned.

"This really doesn't take much skill, dear. If you've played Ring around the Rosie, you can do this." She stood, offering her hand. "Come along, Sarah. Those woodland eyes of yours say that this is something you were meant to do. Perhaps if you enjoy it, you can join us in the Beltaine Fire Dance in a few weeks."

Sarah's face brightened and she nodded, taking Morghanne's hand and joining in the circle of dancers. The dance started out slow, then grew quicker and quicker with each breath, each moment, following the beat of the drummers that stood on the outside of the circle.

It was wild and felt wonderfully reckless and exciting. She enjoyed the feeling of the new experience and her desire for adventure finally felt fulfilled for the first time in a long time. With abandon she tilted her head back and laughed with joy into the dark air. Faster and faster they spun, separating hands and spinning wildly, a dance of freedom and empowerment. Everything felt fresh and wild and new, perfect for the celebration of Spring, Sarah realized – Ostara or, as she was used to, Easter.

She didn't see Morghanne's surprised expression, nor the surprise of the others present. She never noticed that her joyous, lilting laugh brought pleasure to the others that were inside the circle. Soon, other laughter followed, and for the first time in a very long time, Sarah felt as though she was among friends. She spun wildly in the circle, arms thrown wide, face turned up at the sky, watching the moon make its journey.

She didn't notice the power being drawn into the circle for, being caught up in the dance as she had become a part of it, after all. Nor did she notice the tension in her stomach, or the way that she seemed to radiate light, like a miniature star in the field. To an observer it would appear that her fellow dancers also had begun to cast a warm and radiant glow, though not as bright as Sarah had begun to radiate. Caught up in the sheer joy and beauty of the moment these oddities simply escaped Sarah's notice as she whirled about in abandon. She felt like a sprite and she reveled in the unanticipated yet marvelous experience.

It came as something as a disappointment as the dance ended and she listened in curiosity as Morghanne spoke some curious words, after which that strange tension in her belly dissipated slowly. It was with a little sadness that she hugged her new friends, accepting their invitation to celebrate Beltaine on May first, before headed towards the doorway alone.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jareth was scarce in the mood to celebrate but, as a king he was forced to attend formal events regardless of one's dismal mood. As the small town of Wiccadale celebrated Ostara, far from Jareth's castle at the center of the Labyrinth, so did the fae and the creatures of the Labyrinth.

The Sabbats were a time of power for the fae, as well as a wonderful excuse for a gathering. As such, each of the eight holidays were hosted by a different of the Underground's kings. Of course, Jareth thought wryly, the truth of the matter was there was barely an event the court did _not_ celebrate with as much abandon and excess as possible. So he had opened his castle as duty required for a massive, lavish evening filled with dancing and gaiety. He had provided a boon of ale and a feast for his subjects as well, as tradition mandated.

However, the host for the Ostara celebration – the elusive Goblin King – cared naught for any of these festivities.

Many of the other fae had told him over the course of the evening that he had not been himself lately. They advised him that he should use the Sabbat as an opportunity to search for a bride. Jareth smiled politely and told them with great detail exactly what they could do with their opinions. Perhaps governing the goblins did not give one much opportunity to practice tact, he mused. No great loss, that. His personality was not well suited to the polite smiles and false friendships common among the court anyways.

He pondered the seeming increase of interest among his peers in his marital status. True, he was a king and thus expected to produce an heir at some point, however the persistence and pressure was extremely annoying. In fae culture, taking a permanent mate was rare, and it was quite common that even after selecting a fellow fae to bear their progeny, most would continue to take lovers. Immortality has the rather unfortunate effect of jading the best of men. Most of the fae of Jareth's acquaintance had never felt any deeper emotion than desire.

In fact, the only thing which was practically unheard of and heartily discouraged was falling in love. After all, most of the fae would sooner stab you in the back as share a drink with you. To love was to trust, and (all too) often trust was a luxury one could not afford in the Underground.

Jareth was rather proud of himself for keeping his heart hidden from his fellow fae for so long. Unfortunately, he suspected that somewhere in his lineage there might have been a mortal or two tangled in the branches of his family tree. After all, he often felt things that were supposedly impossible for the haughty fae race to experience.

In fact, among those hateful things humans called 'matters of the heart', he had managed to find himself quite lost. Simply the thought of one mortal, someone who should be cowering in the presence of his esteemed self, caused him to seclude himself to his room for hours on end. Inside he felt like a besotted schoolboy with his first crush, but these feelings he kept firmly to himself as he presented his mask of indifference to his subjects.

Jareth scowled faintly, staring out across the landscape of the Underground. Most of his goblins were already quite drunk and were currently passed out in the kitchen, or in various other out of the way locations he had provided to them for their festivities... several of them with their arms thrown tightly around the errant chicken that had wandered into the Underground through one of the secret entrances. Ah, they were imbeciles but they were _his_ imbeciles, he thought, almost fondly.

"Jareth."

He looked up, turning towards the fae approaching him. "Nuada..." he said quietly. He prepared to kneel, but the other fae simply laughed.

"Now, Jareth, we've known each other far too long for you to kneel to me in servitude." The man joined him at the rail, a broad grin on his face. "Besides, I know that's always been a bone in your throat, little brother."

"You are the High King of the fae while I am simply the Goblin King," Jareth replied, looking at his older brother, who looked remarkably like him, save several minor differences. Rather than having the odd brown eye, his brother's eyes were both green, not moss green like Sarah's, but a bright emerald. His hair was flaxen, rather than nearly silver, and worn pulled back in a leather thong. It was a regal look, suitable for his brother, who'd always been the better behaved of his father's sons.

"I may rule the fae, brother, but none would _dare_ say that being the Goblin King is simple," Nuada replied with humor. He rested a hand upon his shoulder, a grin upon his face. "All have a healthy respect for you."

Jareth turned towards his brother, the frustration evident upon his porcelain features. "If I command such respect as you say, brother, then tell me... why ever do these fools _dare_ to question when I shall choose to wed? Do they believe I do not know my own mind?"

Nuada laughed, amused at his haughty brother's frustration. "So that is what has the great Goblin King sulking in the shadows? If it eases your mind, little brother, even though I rule at the high court I still am constantly assaulted by the pressure to wed. It is a part of life, I suppose...after all what lesser noble could possibly pass up the opportunity to see his daughter wed to a king?" He laughed. "It seems a minor obstacle to them whether one cares for the chit or even whether she pleases the eye," he continued dryly.

Jareth replied tersely, "I see you know of what I speak. So, tell me oh wise older brother... have you yet found a successful rejoinder to this clattering which stills their tongues?"

"Only this, _little_ _brother_... that I've many years left to rule, you as my heir should I be killed and that _I _am king and shall choose a bride when I find fit to do so."

"And does this ever actually work?" Jareth asked derisively. "I am sorely tempted to begin making examples of those who feel they cannot keep their tongues. Perhaps if a duke or two were to be flung into the bog..." he mused, a look of devious mischief alighting on his handsome face.

Nuada laughed. "Nay brother, I fear the political implications of you causing several of our highest courtiers and their fathers to carry the eternal stench. Perhaps the suggestion would not go amiss, but the actually doing is another thing entirely." He considered Jareth's question. "Ofttimes reminding the pushy ones of exactly who _is _king will shut them up for an hour or two. It can provide some peace." With an expression of shock and intense curiosity, he suddenly became quiet. "Jareth, whatever is _that?" _he asked, pointing over the fields of the Labyrinth and indicating a brilliant glow in the distance.

Jareth frowned faintly, looking toward the direction his brother had gestured, and stared. In his roughly three millenniums of life, he had never seen such a brilliant glow coming from the village. "Those are the fields around Wiccadale..." Jareth said calmly, pretending he didn't feel something pulling at his heart as he gazed at the warm light.

"That's not what I meant, Jareth, and well you know it." Nuada sounded genuinely concerned. "That radiant light...Only creatures born from dreams and wishes glow like that. Wiccadale is a _human _village. They may glow a bit because of their time living within the wild magicks of the Labyrinth, but, _that_..." He pointed at the star that was obviously dancing on the ground. "That's magic. Only real magic glows like that," Nuada stated, a look of puzzlement on his handsome face.

The Goblin King took a steadying breath. "Wiccadale lies in the shadow of the Labyrinth. I shall investigate at my first opportunity... It might simply be a fae forgoing tradition." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Morghanne should know something." He saw Nuada's expression of distinct interest and smirked. "Unless _you'd_ rather go interrogate the girl..."

Nuada _blushed_. "She's an attractive mortal." There was a trace of defensiveness in his voice.

Jareth rested his chin on his palm. "Figures. The men in our line and mortal women..." he muttered, tugging at a few strands of his wild hair. He noticed the expression of interest on his brother's face and swore silently, but quite viciously. He had not meant to say that aloud.

"Voice of experience, little brother?"

Jareth's expression became one of cool indifference, although he felt like he was probing his own wounds intentionally. "Last time I checked, I _was_ a male," he muttered, glancing at his brother from the corner of his eyes.

"As to the _mortal woman..._what's her name?" Nuada noticed the nearly cold expression on his brother's face and his eyes widened as he recognized it for what it was. Jareth was hiding behind a mask, a sure sign that he was in pain. "Oh, little brother, don't tell me..."

Jareth began speaking quietly. He was amazed that his voice remained smooth and calm, betraying nothing. "It was five years ago and she was a runner. She conquered my Labyrinth with every step she took, and..." He saw a startled understanding on his brother's face. Quickly, he looked away. "She was just a child of fifteen years. Nothing I did could distract her. After all, I had managed to cast myself as the villain in her story, and she shall never view me as anything else." Just facts, nothing else. None of the details, no confession. 'Simply words, that is all,' he told himself. Unfortunately, that children's nursery rhyme was wrong. Words _could _harm just as efficiently as a well thrown stone.

"You have not spoken of this with anyone." It was stated more than it was asked.

"Would you?" Jareth turned those mis-matched eyes towards his older brother, an eyebrow arched raising nearly to his hairline.

Nuada considered that and then shrugged. "No, I suppose not." He looked at his brother, seeing the defeated slope to his proud shoulders. "Her name? Or does this stick like a bone within in your throat, as well?"

Jareth closed his eyes. "Her name was...Sarah," he said finally. He had not spoken her name since last he saw her. It was slightly more difficult than he'd thought it would be.

"She must have been quite something to turn the head of the Goblin King," Nuada said evenly.

He closed his eyes, putting a hand to hide his mouth, which had twisted into a grimace. "I don't wish to speak of this any longer," Jareth said, his voice turning cold, emotionless. He had settled his court mask down over his face. The years of perfecting this cool indifference were the only reason he hadn't shattered yet, especially since he felt so _very _brittle. He glanced towards Wiccadale seeking a distraction and remembered his brother's words. Something that was magic, something made from dreams and wishes. Something like the fae, but not fae. Very curious indeed. He saw the glow fading slowly, but the bright light had long since disappeared. He took a deep breath, turning back towards the ballroom behind them.

Nuada looked towards his brother, nodding. Once his brother got that tone, there was little likelihood of getting anything else out of him. "Very well, little brother. Tell me how things go in Wiccadale."

Jareth nodded shortly in reply. As Nuada left, a Duke began moving forward, his arm at the waist of his daughter, who was flushed, and twittering. Jareth watched them approach and wondered how badly relations between the Goblin Kingdom and the Duke's land would actually suffer if he tossed the detestable twit into the Bog.

After all, what fool would dare approach the Goblin King when he was obviously in a sour mood. Perhaps his goblins were not so very stupid as they appeared. Even the most idiotic of the goblin would never dare approach him when his mood was so clearly dark.

He entertained the idea briefly, then dismissed it. Doing so would cause his brother trouble if he _did_ toss them both into the bog and Nuada did not like being forced to smooth over situations which Jareth had shoved onto him. Hm, perhaps not a _dip _in the Bog after all... but that didn't mean he couldn't be certain this particular Duke wouldn't bother him again...

A wicked smile turned up the corners of his lips.

He'd just remembered something he would ofttimes forget. Being the Goblin King may not be easy or simple. In fact, it may be more headaches than he often wanted to get out of bed to worry about, but by jove, sometimes it was a lot of fun...

Later that evening, Jareth was in much better spirits, and a Duke and his daughter were curiously missing. Nuada cornered him. "By any chance have you seen that blasted Northern Duke from the wetlands? The one pushing his horrid daughter on any male with a pulse..."

Jareth felt a mischievous smile turn up the corners of his lips. "Yes, they're hanging around somewhere, I imagine," he said in a, god forbid, nearly chipper voice.

The fae king's eyes widened. "Oh, Jareth, _please _tell me you didn't bog them!"

That grin didn't falter. "Of _course_ not. I know what kind of political havoc that would wreak, dear brother. As I said...they're _hanging around_..." He conjured a crystal and leaned close to his brother, displaying it to him with a very satisfied glint in his eyes.

Nuada choked, stared for a moment, and took several calming breaths caught between the urge to indulge in a fit of hysterics or, heaven help him, giggle. "Brother dear, so just how long do you intend to dangle them by their ankles _over _the Bog?"

The crystal vanished and Jareth slipped his thumbs into the waist of his pants, beginning to strut away. "As long as is necessary for them to get the point," he replied calmly, wandering off among the crowd.

Nuada pressed his lips together hard, then bit a knuckle while moving with great speed towards the nearest exit, where he could indulge in the urge to laugh that was clawing at his throat. Well, at least Jareth could be relatively certain that _that_ particular Duke would never, ever bother him again.

It made Nuada almost want a Bog of his own.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0


	4. Chapter 3

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Memoirs of the Underground

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Chapter 3

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sarah yawned big, idly thinking that was the best night's sleep she'd had in ages. She sat upright, stretching and smiling sleepily.

"Sarah, you have fifteen minutes to get ready for work or you'll be la~ate!"

Toby's sing-song cut through her bright mood and she tore out of bed as fast as possible, not noting there were grass-stains on her bathrobe, or leaves in her hair from her unfortunate tumble. She _did,_ however, notice that she ached everywhere.

A moan of pain escaped her and she hurried into her bathroom, turning on an almost painfully hot shower. She tossed the clothing off without a care and sighed in pleasure as the powerful spray punished her back. She lathered her soap on her hands, humming the song she could remember from the night before lightly as she washed herself.

Wow.

She blinked and grinned at the memories of the night before. Alas there was not time to waste... She shrugged and continued getting ready, hurried through her shower, brushed her teeth, applied her make-up, and then headed back to her room wrapped in a fluffy towel.

'Okay, maybe the Underground is better than I remember. Last night was..._fun_. _Really fun._..' She stretched, and opened her underwear drawer. She pulled out her lilac lace panties and dug around briefly for the matching bra.

After a moment, a shriek of rage shook the house.

"My _bra_!" she screamed, suddenly remembering what sent her scrambling down the hill above Wiccadale in the first place. Her father burst through her door moments later and she shrieked again, covering herself as best she could with her towel and threw the nearest thing to her hand at him - which happened to be a rather heavy gargoyle figurine.

It hit her door as he shut it but she paid no attention to the muttered apology on the other side.

It took her several seconds to calm down before she grabbed another bra and put it on, grumbling about her precious bra. It wasn't just _any _bra. It was her two hundred eighty dollar La Perla bra. Two hundred eighty dollars, snatched away by those annoying little goblin hands...

When she got her hands on the little bastard that had her bra, she thought, she'd _kill_ them, grind them into meat and then she'd make that into sausage, bring its head back to life, and then feed the Goblin Sausage back to itself. She sighed loudly, feeling slightly better after her viscous revenge fantasy. She pulled on a rose pink blouse, her cranberry blazer and black pencil skirt, then thrust her feet into her crimson pumps.

On her way to the car she grabbed her black clutch bag and slammed the door shut behind her, still muttering dark evil things about goblins and all the different ways she would kill them.

Robert Williams looked towards Toby, who was calmly eating a plate of pancakes. "What was _that_ about?"

Toby swallowed the mouthful he was currently chewing, washing it down with a large gulp of milk. "Some goblins stole her underwear," he explained evenly. He pretended he didn't see the completely flabbergasted expression on his father's face and went back to eating his pancakes.

Karen walked into the room, fastening an earring. "Robert, have you seen my rose silk stockings?"

Robert cleared his throat. "No, dear."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jareth woke in an exceptionally sour mood. His head ached and the goblins sounded like they were getting into the ale early. Again. He tried not to think about the mound of paperwork waiting for him within his office. Instead, he rolled over to face out the window and stared out at the cloudy day.

Either it was a coincidence that it had been cloudy every day for a week now or it would appear his semi-symbiotic relationship with the Labyrinth was causing the local weather to reflect his mood.

He sighed before dragging himself out of his bed and conjuring some suitably dark clothing to suit his dark mood. He looked at himself in his ornate full-length mirror and frowned, then used his fingers to fluff his hair, and sighed softly yet again. This was precisely why he didn't speak of Sarah. It left him in a bad mood for days, which required he remove himself from view of his peers until he had his mood sufficiently under control. Of course this meant burying himself in his work, which he detested. It also meant the casual arrogance and innate self-confidence which he _usually _exuded from every pore of his body naturally would end up being forced, for at least today.

Bloody hell! It had been five long years and still the insufferable girl vexed him terribly. That he must force himself to _act_ the part of the irresistible and cocky Goblin King to keep up appearances - an appearance that had always been as natural a part of himself as breathing - irritated and frustrated him. This odd loss of self-confidence, of course, had everything to do with the fact that his incredible powers of seduction and his superb powers of manipulation had simply completely and utterly failed to effect the girl one bit! The only girl that he had actually cared for in any manner - whether she responded to him or not - in well over a thousand years! Blast that female!

It just shouldn't have been _possible _that he should fail. He _was_ the embodiment of female lust and fantasy. No women before her - and few men even - would have refused what he had offered. Yet, when he offered it to her, she'd completely _ignored_ the offer and maintained her focus upon a small insignificant child!

He shouldn't give a toss about her anymore.

So why did it still bother him, five years after she rejected him?

A crash of thunder sounded in the distance and Jareth peered out his window, noting that his temper had soured to the point that a nasty storm was now brewing outside. Time to set aside these thoughts. It would not do for the denizens of the Labyrinth to have cause to wonder what was wrong with their king.

He growled faintly and moved to his door, deciding that terrorizing a few of his subjects might just perk up his day. However, when he stepped into the hall he immediately noticed two goblins in a nasty fight over what appeared to be a scrap of lilac lace. The Goblin King moved towards them noting that they were Gip and Gnarl. Gnarl had been in the castle for decades and was widely considered the king's right hand by the goblins. Of course, this was not his sovereign's point of view on his status. Indeed, to his eyes, Gnarl was merely an imbecile he saw every day as opposed to those which moved about more frequently.

Gip, he remembered, was new to the castle. He had been quite excited on his first visit. When was that? Ah yes, the eve of Ostara. The little thing had appeared from nowhere - pale, drawn, and out of breath.

"Precisely _what _is going on here?" Jareth snapped, stepping forward until he towered above the two small creatures.

Gip reflexively released the flimsy piece of lace. "Your Highness! " Gnarl appeared surprised, then continued with the ease of a politician. "We're oh so sorry to have disturbed you, your Majesty..." Gnarl explained, as though he were attempting to placate his king. "Little Gip was just handing over his entry fee..." Suddenly, the goblin realized what he'd said and bit his hand hard enough it bled.

"Entry fee?" Suddenly it all became clear to him... Gip's recent visit for the first time, the bit of lace between Gnarl's greedy fingers... Why ever should he be surprised at what these creatures came up with next? "Hand it over, Gnarl." Jareth held out his hand and watched Gnarl struggle with himself. It was as though he couldn't bring himself to release it. "You have less than a second, or it's to the Bog." The scrap of lace was shoved into his hand and he lifted it, staring at it in curiosity. "And why, pray tell, are you charging ladies undergarments as a means to get into my castle, Gnarl?" he asked amicably.

Gip's lower lip trembled.

"Well, we always tests the goblins before they're allowed into the castle..." Gnarl said, trembling in his boots. "This was Gip's test, because he's a very young goblin-"

"Terribly sorry, Gnarl... not quite good enough," he retorted. With a wave of his gloved hand, Gnarl disappeared and the king turned his gaze towards Gip. "Now, would _you_ care to answer what this... _test_ was, Gip?"

Gip began crying. "Gnarl made me! I didn't wanna...He said if I ever wanted to get into the castle I had to bring him a bra from the lady."

That last bit got his attention and lightening flashed, punctuated by a crack of thunder. Which _lady_? "Perhaps you should clarify yourself, Gip," Jareth warned darkly.

"_The_ lady, the pretty one that conquered the Labyrinth," Gip sobbed. "First he didn't tell me that the lady's house I were goin' to was anyone special. But then when I came back the first time without the prize Gnarl told me who she was and he said I'd never, ever get to come in the castle if I didn't go back and get what he wanted. And, there was Ale..." Gip's voice broke off miserably as he struggled for the courage to explain himself despite the knowledge he would most certainly follow Gnarl to the bog within moments. "He made me go back and wait, til the lady left the room...I...gots the bra like Gnarl said...but the lady _came back_! She was very angry. She chased me, Highness, all the way back to Underground. I gots away through her closet, but then..." Gip shuddered. "Then, she _followed_ before the door closed behind me! I don't know how she seen me. Or how she seen the portal neither! I didn't _mean_ to let her in, Highness, I didn't! Oh please, oh please don't Bog me, sir!"

Jareth massaged his temple, not noticing until it was too late that he had used the hand the bra currently rested in. He took several deep breaths.

Sarah had been in the Underground.

During the Ostara celebration, something had shone brilliantly in the vicinity of Wiccadale, something his brother seemed to think was a magic made of dreams. And_ Sarah _had followed a goblin into the Underground. "I have one more question, Gip."

Gip nodded, trembling. His face tear-stained and resigned.

"I am aware there is a portal to the entrance of the Labyrinth beneath the Lady Sarah's bed...Precisely where does her closet bring one to, Gip?"

Those big eyes watered. "Wh... where the failed runners go, Your Highness. To Wiccadale..."

Jareth closed his eyes and sighed. "Thank you Gip," he said quietly. He straightened and looked down at the small goblin. He stuffed the undergarment in his pocket and arched an eyebrow. "Go and see to it that my carriage is readied. Evidently the time has come that I speak with Lady Morghanne."

Gip nodded, beginning to head away, when Jareth addressed him once again.

"And Gip, your honesty has saved you this day. _Do not_ try my patience again." He glanced out the window, smirking when he noticed the sky clearing. And all because of a brassiere.

Unable to believe his luck, Gip ran to do as he was bid.

Jareth headed out of his castle, not noticing that as his mood had changed, so changed his clothing. Shimmering threads of silver and gold and the faintest trace of glitter spread across the fine black velvet overcoat. He breathed in, savoring his mood...he knew this sensation. He hadn't felt it in ages, but the feeling was there regardless. Excitement.

It had been years since he'd heard _anything_ of Sarah. Hoggle refused to speak to him about anything except business and Sir Didymus steadfastly maintained it would be ungentlemanly to speak of his lady without her knowledge. It had been quite maddening over the course of these five years, knowing that the traitorous scab, the oaf of a yeti and the little knight visited her frequently at her invitation yet still having no knowledge of how the girl was fairing Above. At last, he had found someone who might yet give him that knowledge he sought. Yes, Morghanne definitely required a visit.

He would have to look his best.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Word came long before the king arrived. Morghanne did as was expected, making sure the town was presentable before his arrival. The villagers gathered behind her and she stood, her back straight, not entirely certain why the king of the goblins had suddenly chosen to reappear in their lives. He had given no hint of a reason behind his visit.

It certainly didn't bode well for her sanity.

She watched his carriage roll up and when he stepped out she dipped into a deep curtsy. "Your Highness," she greeted, trying to pretend that same deadly fear wasn't choking her again. _Please, for the love of the Goddess, don't let him be coming for Selena again..._

Jareth noticed the way they trembled and stepped down, an indifferent mask in place. "Morghanne," he said easily. He took her hands, pulling her upright. "Morghanne, my _dear_ woman, how very pleasant to see you once again. I trust you can spare a moment to speak with me in private?"

The brightness in those eyes frightened her. "My Lord, may I ask why you wish to speak with me?"

He smiled, clearly enjoying the shiver that snaked up the backs of the women and men present. "I require information that I believe you may possess. It is in regards to your celebration last eve...and the events prior..." He released her, sweeping easily towards her home. "Over tea will be acceptable," he stated calmly.

Morghanne wrung her hands together nervously, moving towards the door, keeping her back straight. Somehow his manner troubled her greatly. He had that cat-that-ate-the-canary grin and he seemed extremely pleased with himself. It worried her that she didn't know why he was so obviously pleased, nor why he was here in the first place. Perhaps once he'd come down to the villages which lay in the shadow of the Labyrinth, but in lately he'd nearly isolated himself in his castle, his visits coming to an abrupt stop roughly five years ago...

At that thought, a sudden realization crept over her and a wry smile turned up her lips. The change in her mood disarmed him. His face went oddly blank and, when the door had closed behind her, he dropped the facade altogether. He watched her, his expression difficult to read. "Quite a stir you caused last night. The fae at the castle couldn't help but comment upon your little _light show_."

"My light show?" Morghanne asked, smiling and going about making the tea.

"Then this morning I find two of my goblins playing tug of war with a woman's undergarment." He rested his chin on his palm, watching her out of the corner of his eye, waiting, hoping for a weakness. She was standing upright, her back straight. Morghanne may have never feared him, but she always had a healthy respect for him, and he knew he intimidated her. "One is going to be spending the next few days soaking up the sights and smells of the Bog of Eternal Stench...The other, however..."

Morghanne set a cup of tea on the table before the king, sitting in a chair across from him. "The other?"

"Gip is very young and while he knows the rules, he doesn't always know the consequences of his actions...and he's the unfortunate goblin who stole this undergarment. He does, however, understand what happens if he does not yield to his king." He inclined his head. "He says the exit from Above he used wasn't far from here. In fact, he says he ran right through town..."

"I seem to recall something like that..."

Jareth snarled softly. She was playing elusive with him. That made him cranky. He stood slowly. "Morghanne, did anyone _else_ come through that exit? A girl, perhaps. From Above?" He lowered his voice to a deadly croon. "One that glowed, perhaps?"

Morghanne's hand stilled. She lifted her gaze, realizing that she was in dangerous territory. She set her tea cup down, frowning faintly. "Please sit down, Highness," she said softly. She folded her hands in her lap, her face gentle. "From your words, you know the story. So what is it exactly, that you need from me?" She inclined her head, her eyes soft.

His hands rested fingertip to fingertip and he peered at her over them. "Just a name," he said quietly.

"Something tells me you want a great deal more than a name, my Lord Jareth." Morghanne smiled sympathetically. "I shall tell you what I can, Highness." She sipped her tea and sighed, lacing her hands around the small cup. "We were setting up for the celebration. As you well know, we have a little festival, with food and music and dancing. Up the hill we heard someone shouting."

Jareth felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile and forced his indifferent mask back into place.

Morghanne had the good sense to pretend she didn't notice. "It was a young lady. She ran headlong into me, fell head over heels, and we landed in a heap." She sipped her tea to hide a smile, noting the look of intense interest on the king's face. "We introduced ourselves; she said her name was Sarah and asked where she was. We invited her to celebrate with us. She consented and told the children a few tales from the Labyrinth." She saw something bordering on dismay in his eyes and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her. "Nothing that would frighten them. And she was quite careful to not mention you..."

He coughed politely, hiding his quirking lips behind his own teacup. "Do go on..."

She smirked. "We rescued her from the children's questions and the men looked after her for awhile, teaching her a few songs, then the ladies had their turn." Morghanne lowered her gaze. "Mostly the women were grilling her about _you_ in fact. She blushes delightfully," she paused briefly. "You left a rather poor impression, My Lord," she said softly.

His cool, indifferent mask slipped back into place. "Did I?" he asked, as though he truly didn't care.

"I believe the words she used were rude, insufferable, and arrogant," she said, sipping her tea primly. She saw him slump slightly. "Although she did say that you were generous in your own way." That perked him up. Huh. Interesting. "Then we danced. The rest of us...didn't expect what happened next. It was like dancing with-"

"Magic," Jareth said quietly. "We could see it all the way to the Fae Ball. That's a few miles from here."

She cringed. "Oh, dear," she said softly. "I think it's best if we don't mention that when Sarah returns..."

He straightened. "She's coming back?" he demanded.

"Well, yes." Morghanne frowned faintly. He looked upset. "She enjoyed the celebration. We invited her to join us on Beltaine as well. It's not for a while, so something may come up for her-"

"Nothing will come up, Morghanne," he said quietly, standing. "If Sarah made a decision, nothing will change her mind." He gave a jaunty little half-bow. "I thank you for the tea and for the information, Morghanne. Oh yes, and...my brother sends his regards." He noticed the faint flush on her fair face. Good, now he wasn't the only one who would be spending the next few weeks _wondering_.

"Please, Your Highness, send him mine as well." She bowed slightly.

He lifted her hand, pressing a light kiss upon the soft skin. "Thank you for your assistance, Morghanne. Perhaps I shall forgo Fae Tradition and visit you on Beltaine as well. Perhaps I could convince Nuada that it would be more entertaining to visit my subjects than to remain within a stuffy old ballroom..." He released her hand, smirking at the way her blush had darkened and spread, and then moved towards the door, his stride brisk.

He was going to have to keep his eyes out. After all, if Sarah had found one entrance, she may find others, and not all of the entrances led to someplace as safe as the Labyrinth, or Wiccandale, or even his castle. There were dark, dangerous places in the Underground, places where his influence held less sway.

He swept past the others, his steps light for the first time in five years. He climbed into his carriage, settling on the soft bench. She was back. Whether she liked it or not, Sarah had wandered back into his life, and she wasn't a child anymore. He closed his eyes, wishing he could see her. Perhaps...perhaps now...

He conjured a crystal in his hand, sending a desire towards it. Blast. It remained dismally blank. He bared his teeth. Fine. The magic that she used to separate them still worked at keeping him out of her life. That was for now but, now he knew she couldn't keep him out forever. And if his goblins could go Above and she could use the entrances, then it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, he would see her and when that happened, the magic she'd used to banish him would shatter.

Anticipation tingled, he noticed with a wry smirk. He rested his chin on a fist, grinning quite uncontrollably. It was looking to be an excellent year...

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	5. Chapter 4

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Memoirs of the Underground

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Chapter 4

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For the past two weeks Sarah had been lying in wait. She'd tried extremely hard to get into Wiccadale the evening after her first foray, looking forward to spending more time with Morghanne. Yet, it seemed the harder that she tried, the harder the entrance resisted her.

So instead, she resolved to wait until she heard that telling noise, that giggle that said that the goblins were in her home again, up to their usual mischief. After all, if she got into the Underground, she was sure she'd be able to get to Wiccadale some how or other. Perhaps a good Samaritan would give her a ride there. And if not, she was just going to have to wait until another one of the little cretins got into her closet.

Waiting had been tedious. Get up, and depending on the day, go to school then possibly work, then stake out. Lather, rinse, repeat. However, somehow Sarah knew tonight would be different. Tonight, she felt that curious tingle in her abdomen. Anticipation. When one of those little sneaks tried to come through a door in her house, she'd be ready. Toby was over at a friend's house and Karen and Robert had gone out to a party. The house was empty of everyone except her.

Many more things had gone missing around the Williams house since the fateful night that little creep had stolen her bra. Her step-mother's rose silk stockings, her brother's favorite t-shirt, the lilac panties which matched her bra, and strangely enough, her old plastic crown and a cat-toy Merlin was oddly fond of.

Over the past few days she'd been taking note of all the different places the goblins seemed to pop up. She'd been trying to find a rhyme or reason, so that she could understand how, exactly, they were getting into her family home. With the help of her brother, she'd made a map of what she assumed were portals. So far, she'd mapped nearly half the house.

They were getting in everywhere - from kitchen cabinets to her bedroom closet. Even her father's office, specifically the porn cabinet.

Sarah massaged her temples, trying not to imagine the small creatures gathered in front of a TV watching pornographic videos. After all, once upon a time, at least some of them had to have been little children. She frowned faintly, wondering if they were still as impressionable as her brother was. And again, she wondered what the fate of she and her brother would have been had she failed to complete the Labyrinth.

With a heavy sigh, she headed down the stairs, preparing to collect the clean laundry from the dryer. Laundry basket on her hip and a weary expression on her face, she headed down the stairs into the basement and opened the dryer, eyes widening as she realized that she was looking one of the little green bastards dead in the face.

It looked at her, midway through putting its rather over-sized foot into her father's sock. It cracked a grin and dove into the back of the dryer.

Sarah dove in after it. She popped through what evidentially was an open window and tumbled down onto the street below.

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Sebastian had never particularly cared for Wizard City. It was a seedy place, filled with dark corners in which the unsuspecting often met their unfortunate and untimely end. Regrettably, it was also the closest city to his home. Seeing as his lovely, pregnant wife was there, he didn't want to be away for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

According to his aunt and several other, equally reliable sources, the only remedy for pissing off a pregnant woman was a sizable box of fudge. The search for said fudge was what put him on the street of the finest Chocolatier within the rather vast city. Now, apology gift in hand, he was leaving, heading back to where he was comfortable, where he was happy, back to the carnal carnival known as the Den of Iniquity.

He'd barely gotten ten feet from the fudge shoppe when a goblin streaked past him wearing the most horrendous pair of socks he'd ever seen. Less than a second later there was a shriek and something _fell_ on him - a rather heavy something which knocked into his back, sending him spilling onto the cobble-stoned streets of the City.

He grunted, twisting around as whatever had landed upon him scrambled off. Once the weight was gone he found himself looking at a young lady, not much older than his wife, dressed in a snug shirt and loose denim pants. Her brown hair hung haphazardly around her face, several strands hanging in front of her moss-green eyes. What startled him the most, however, was not her unusual fashion sense. It was the sudden, startling awareness that this creature was mortal and most likely not a resident of the Underground.

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Sarah scrambled off the unfortunate soul she'd landed on and found a man rubbing his backside in pain. "Uh...sorry," she offered. Why was it that lately whenever she came into the Underground, she managed to injure someone? Was she really becoming that big of a klutz?

Bright hazel eyes glared up at her. "You should look before you leap," the man said, standing and dusting himself off. His hair was black, and he stood a full head taller than her. Since she was 5'6", this guy had to be at over six feet tall. His fashion sense also reminded her a disturbing amount of a certain Goblin King. Huh.

"Uh, I'm Sarah. Didn't mean to land on you," she apologized nervously. She looked him over the best she could. "You're...not hurt, are you?"

He looked at her, frowning faintly. "I'm fine. Whatever is a mortal like _you _doing in the Wizard City?" he asked, his brow knitted together in something caught between confusion and genuine concern.

Sarah looked around, blinking. "Is that where this is?" she asked. She couldn't see much of the city besides rather grubby looking streets, with equally grubby looking stands. Then, returning her gaze towards the man who stood in front of her she asked, "Are you going into the city?"

"Actually, I was leaving. And I'm in a hurry." He glanced around, noting several people had already pegged the confused mortal as a potential victim and sighed heavily. "You should come along, Lady Sarah. It's best if you don't stay here any longer than necessary." He offered an arm in a gentlemanly fashion and noted the surprise on her face. "Something wrong?"

Sarah had been trying to reconcile the differences between this man, who was obviously a gentleman, and the only other man she knew that vaguely shared his taste in fashion and physical build, with what her world would consider unfashionably long hair, build tall and willowy rather than the stockier build girls close to her age seemed to prefer. She grinned, taking his arm. "You know, I have no idea who you are, but you're a heck of a lot nicer than the only other guy I know that dresses like you."

A frown graced the man's lips as he led her from the city, pausing and seeming to relax faintly once they'd fully left the city. "Am I?"

"Yeah, but your manners suck. You should introduce yourself," Sarah pointed out.

The man stared at her in mute shock then shook his head. Just great, another tiger disguised as a mouse, he thought, glaring down at her. "My name is Sebastian," he said after another moment.

"Nice ta meet ya," she said, grinning.

Sebastian straightened his billowy green shirt and sighed, frowning faintly. "Now, maybe you should answer my question. What was a mortal like you doing wandering around Wizard City?"

She arched an eyebrow at the word mortal, but shrugged. He looked plenty mortal to her, but she was learning you couldn't always tell in the Underground. "A goblin was making off with my father's socks," she said, as though it would explain everything. "Although I don't think it was the same one that stole that bra," she mused more to herself than her companion, never noticing that the man stared at her in shock.

"Wait, wait..." He held up a hand to get her attention. "Why are g_oblins_ stealing your personal items?"

"Hell if I know. I haven't caught one yet in order to interrogate it. As soon as I find out, I'll be sure to let you know, though. Along with half of Wiccadale, provided I can find out why before May first."

The man came to a full halt. This little trusting human had been regularly visiting the Underground? He stared at her for a full minute then shook off his shock at her bizarre revelations. "Okay, Lady Sarah, we're nearly there. You might want to brace yourself, especially since I know this is your first trip to the Den."

They walked up the street and Sebastian pulled away, spotting his precious wife up the street a ways. He spread his arms and the well rounded pregnant woman ran up to him, throwing her arms around him. He sighed, seeming to fully relax for the first time since Sarah had met him.

Sarah inclined her head as they both turned to look at her.

"Sebastian, who is this?" the woman asked with a slightly country accent, which suited her appearance.

"I'm Sarah." She stepped forward, offering her hand and smiling brightly. "I fell on Sebastian and he has been very kind in keeping me out of further trouble."

The woman stared at her, stunned, and looked at Sebastian, who merely nodded. "Indeed she did. I could use a drink and a bite to eat." He pulled a box from his pocket and set it in the lady's hands. "Your fudge, sweetheart." He kissed the woman's forehead and then moved into a nearby courtyard.

Sarah watched him go, turning her smile towards the pregnant woman.

The woman looked a little lost for words, but before she could find them, a man placed an arm around Sarah's shoulders.

The invasion of her personal space caused a flush to light up her cheeks.

"So?" The voice attached to that body said in such a way Sarah could hear the smirk on his lips before she turned to look at the man. Yup, he was dressed nearly identically to Sebastian. Was that the fashion here among men in the Underground; loose, low cut shirts, and pants so blisteringly tight they look like you'd have to shed a layer of skin to remove them? Sarah felt a flush wash over her when the man brought his mouth near her ear. "First time in the Den?"

Sarah swallowed hard, suddenly feeling with unerring certainty that she'd followed Sebastian into a field of predators. But dammit, she was Sarah Williams, and she didn't balk in the face of predators, not even ones that wore embarrassingly tight pants. She straightened and found bright blue eyes staring at her from under sandy blond hair. "The den?" She was proud that her voice didn't quaver. Maybe she'd underestimated the Underground last time. Wiccadale was obviously warm and welcoming, but this place...

"The Den of Iniquity." The bared teeth he flashed her way reminded her of a certain Goblin King, made her insides do somersaults, and greatly distracted her and prevented her from thinking clearly. The man didn't step back as she expected but instead he took her hand, shaking it, his teeth still flashing a Cheshire Cat smile.

She was suddenly feeling like a particularly tasty bird cornered by a hungry predator.

Suddenly there was the sound of someone getting smacked on the back of a head with a hand. At the dull thunking sound the man whined. "Lynnea! That's not nice!" The once powerful seducer now seemed more like a petulant child.

Lynnea - which happened to be the name of Sebastian's pregnant wife - shoved him out of the way. "Teaser, stop thinking with your cock and go take a cold shower so that it might go into hibernation!" the woman said crossly, then turned back to Sarah, who had a hand over her mouth and was looking mighty pale. Sarah had never experienced something like this. It felt like something was off with her of her emotions. It was a rather strange and unexpected sensation. Lynnea frowned in concern, putting an arm around Sarah's shoulders and led her into the courtyard.

"Who...ah, who was that?" Sarah asked, feeling a little weak-kneed.

"That was Teaser...he's part incubus," the woman explained, guiding her to a chair and sitting down with her. "So, I'm certain Sebastian would have asked, but...what brings you here? I hope you don't mind my saying this, but you're a little out of place. What part of the Underground are you from?"

Sarah tried to inconspicuously stifle a yawn, the past few sleepless nights beginning to catch up with her. "Actually, I'm not from the Underground," she said calmly, not noting the eyes that snapped towards her like she was a fresh meal. "Goblins have been breaking into my family's house and when I caught one at it the last time this happened, I followed it. I ended up near Wiccadale that time."

Lynnea put both of her hands over Sarah's mouth and waved a tall, grumpy looking man. "Philo, could we get your specialties and a mug of ale?"

"Lady Lynnea, you shouldn't be drinking," he responded reproachfully.

She glared at the man in such an irritated manner the man cringed. "It's not for _me_, you over protective lout, it's for Sarah." She looked towards Sarah, and sighed. "I swear, you get a little swollen with child, and every man in your life is telling you what to drink, eat, how to sleep, and whether or not it's okay to have sex!" That last part was said in a particularly grumpy tone and Sarah suspected she'd figured out why Sebastian had been nearly two miles away, buying fudge for his lady.

A bowl of bread and cheese was set in front of them with a basket of stuffed mushrooms beside that, then a mug of ale was stuffed into Sarah's hands. Sarah sipped it, liked it and took a heavy swig. Then she reached over, grabbed a bread roll and stared, open-mouthed at it.

It looked like a penis.

"They're called Phallic Delights. Don't worry, it's just bread. It goes good with the cheese." Lynnea sounded so calm. Sarah felt herself respond with a somewhat choked sound.

"And what are these?" Sarah asked curiously, pointing towards the plate of mushrooms.

"Stuffed tits."

Sarah closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then failed to withhold her laughter, rocking her head back and guffawing in disbelief. It was insane, ridiculous, impossible. How had she managed to wander into the bordello district? Or, in reality, she supposed it was more of a bordello _town_. She dipped the bread in the cheese and bit it, wiping a tear from her eyes. "This is actually pretty good despite the umm...oddly appropriate name. Anything else I should know?" Sarah wondered aloud, leaning back in the chair.

Lynnea smiled at her and shook her head. "You're doing better than I did, my first time here. I got drunk on half a glass of wine, and after that my memory gets a little blurry. I do, however, remember Sebastian wearing the same look he often does when he has gas," Lynnea said. Sarah roared in laughter. A short time later Sebastian approached, speaking harshly with Teaser about something. Teaser was trying his damnedest to look innocent, which seeing as he looked like a college freshman during pledge week, he was surprisingly good at it. Unfortunately for him, now that she knew what he was, he wasn't fooling her.

Sebastian and Teaser were a strange pair to look at. Sebastian looked somewhat swarthy with his dark hair and hazel eyes. He wore darker clothing, tight, low-slung black leather pants and a forest green shirt. He was kind of like a bad influence, the kind of boy you don't bring home to your mother. Meanwhile, Teaser, with his light hair, bright eyes, and boyish charm seemed like someone your even Karen would think was respectable. Until, of course, he set those powers of seduction on them, as she'd quickly found out herself.

The two men joined them and they began to tell her about the town, about the people in town, including grumpy old Philo who ran the courtyard and the small restaurant attached. They told her about the creatures that were in the town, some of which Sarah had sometimes even heard of, and others Sarah didn't know existed. After several glasses of ale Sarah had long since started feeling pleasantly numb, and was verging closer towards stone drunk than even on the night she'd spent at Wiccadale.

"So, we've told you about us...what about you?" Teaser leaned towards her, his breath brushing across her ear.

Sarah inclined her head. "Well... this is my third trip to the Underground. Awhile ago, I went to Wiccadale." She smiled, leaning towards Teaser and that smile turned a little malicious. "Although, the first time I was here it was to run the Labyrinth. Tell me, does the Goblin King set the fashion trends everywhere in the Underground? I swear, you look like you raided his closet."

The room went oddly silent but Sarah didn't notice because the bees living in her ears were growing louder and a few of the more bawdy songs she'd learned the night in Wiccadale were scratching at her throat to be sung.

She decided, after a moment, that she liked the Den. She liked Teaser, Sebastian and Lynnea. Heck, she even liked grumpy old Philo. She finished downing the glass of ale and smiled broadly. "Who wants to hear about the Labyrinth?" she asked, to a roar of approval. Or perhaps that roar was simply in her ears.

Either way, it was pleasant.

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The past week for the Goblin King had been almost dismally quiet. Jareth had sent his brother a suitably vague correspondence about what he had learned regarding the events in Wiccadale. He smirked as he imagined the stricken look on his face when Nuada read the part where Morghanne sent her regards.

Or perhaps not _stricken_ so much as wearing that small, secretive half-smile that graced his brother's face whenever he knew a particularly juicy bit of information, coupled with the blush he got whenever the young witch was mentioned. Yes, that sounded about right.

Jareth closed his eyes, tapping his brow with a long, gloved finger, trying to figure out why the air felt charged this evening. The week had been dreadfully dull. There had been no runners, no wished-away children, and the goblins had been making themselves scarce. Even Gnarl had yet to drag himself back from the Bog. Although, he supposed it was _possible_ that the idiot simply got lost. Gip, however... that young goblin was making himself quite useful. He'd proved an adequate Mail Goblin, and with his speed and an intelligence almost unheard of among goblins, he navigated the majority of the Underground quite well. If Gip had not been placed on probation for his foray into the Above which led a mortal, namely _Sarah_, into the Underground, Jareth would have been quite happy to make the goblin a very important figure among their little society -

like Ale Taster. Or perhaps, he considered, he might even place the lad in charge of the room where the casks of ale and wine resided.

He pulled his thoughts away from the small goblin. That tingle in the air bothered him. It caused a stirring in his blood. Something had changed. Something was _here_ that should not be, yet, he could not identify what or where exactly that _something_ was. He stood, feeling frustrated and out of sorts and decided to take his vexation out on those who needed it the most. He stormed downstairs from his study to his throne room where the goblins were, Lord and Lady help him, singing. He stepped in then paused and waited for them to notice him, meanwhile noting several things which were _very_ out of place.

The scene in his throne room was... unusual to say the least. One goblin danced about with a pair of lace lilac panties worn over its head, its long ears peeking through. Another of the chorus had a pair of socks pulled up nearly to his knees. One had pink silk stockings stretched over its head, the legs trailing behind him as he chased a chicken around the room. Yet another was wearing a tacky plastic crown with a gaudy purple jewel set jauntily upon its head.

Jareth smiled amicably, not showing the fury welling up inside. "Just where did you get those _delightful _garments?" he asked, unsurprised when they answered without looking to see who they were speaking to.

"Lady's house. She has fun stuff," answered an inebriated goblin who obviously could not see his king through the lacy underwear pulled down over his head.

One goblin clad in a bright green shirt, which was decorated with the visages of four anthropomorphic turtles, looked up at him. As recognition dawned, his eyes bugged in fear and he let out an unintelligible shriek when Jareth suddenly plucked him from the floor by the collar of said shirt.

Jareth saw intense fear in the creature's eyes and felt the faintest stirring of pity for the goblin. No, wait, he thought - not _pity_ - anticipation. "You_ ridiculously_ stupid creatures. Despite my repeated warnings, and despite Gnarl's extended stay within the bog, do you mean to tell me..." The Goblin King paused for greatest effect. "You've _still_ been traipsing up to the Above, specifically into _that girl's_ house, and divesting them of their belongings?!" He threw the goblin and it rolled several times across the floor while the other goblins cowered before him.

"It's just...we like to see how...young Toby's doing...?" one said.

Another, named Dribble, was the picture of shame, from the funnel on his head, clear down to those ridiculous argyle socks. "Toby's faborite shirt on Squabble..." he muttered.

Jareth put a hand over his face. "I see..."

"Started kindergarten this year..." Squirt mumbled.

"Almost four feet tall..." the one in the pink stockings said.

"Besides, never got caught 'fore tonight-" Dribble uttered, then realized what he had said. He looked up nervously and saw Jareth, whose expression had edged towards understanding, now looking at him in fury.

"You got _caught_?"

"Takin' socks from their tumbler..." Dribble mumbled, terrified.

Jareth rubbed his hand across his face in frustration. Gods, what do you do with creatures that are stuck with little more than the intelligence of a small child. "And who, make I ask, _caught _you, Dribble?" Jareth asked coldly. The goblin was shaking in his socks.

"L-Lady Sarah..." Dribble stuttered nervously.

The breath rushed out of him. "And did she _follow you_ through the...tumbler?" His voice was cool, emotionless, his face as blank as the goblins had ever seen it. It actually caused them to shake so hard they could no longer speak. After all, when their king was so angry that he had schooled his face into that carefully blank expression, it _never_ meant good things for the goblins. Or anyone else for that matter.

Dribble swallowed hard, knowing silence would hasten and worsen his punishment. "Y-y-y-ye-yes..."

Jareth's mind was in a whirl. Dribble was on duty for the beginning of the evening to guard the entrances around Wizard City. She was probably still there, since the gates there were tricky to access from this side. Suddenly his earlier feeling of unease made sense. Jareth's voice settled into a gentle croon. "I will be departing the castle for a short time. I expect that by the time I return, _every single article_ which you have stolen shall be placed in my chambers. When I have returned I shall deal with the lot of you." He swept from the room, concealing the concern which had arisen inside him.

Wizard City was _not_ the safest place for a mortal to be running around, and without any certainty of her location, it looked like he might have a long night ahead of him. Unless...

He transported himself outside into his Labyrinth and placed his palm against the stone . While Wizard City _was_ outside his domain, it was just outside of it. It was possible he'd be able to sense her location, particularly since, as the conqueror of the Labyrinth, she remained somewhat attuned to it. He concentrated and let himself commune with the structure. If only he could sense -

Quickly, Jareth jerked his hand back, a breath rushing from between his lips. What the devil was she doing _there_?!

Calming himself, he closed his eyes for a moment. It occurred to him that it served her right to have the pants scared off of her. Perhaps the silly chit would learn that jumping into portals with no idea of where they led was not the wisest behavior. Regardless of this rationalization, he was concerned for her. Besides, he had been secretly awaiting her promised return for Beltaine. He disappeared with the faintest hint of smoke and glitter and reappeared on the edge of the Wizard City. The Den of Iniquity, like most of the towns which thrived in the Labyrinth's shadow, was full of self-sustaining, fully cognizant adults. Unlike his goblins, they did not need a fae 'baby-sitter' as often as did those who lived directly under his nose.

As a result, he'd visited the place as seldom as possible. In fact, like many of his other self-sufficient towns, he hadn't visited in the past five years, since his defeat. Funny how it was the one who defeated him who was drawing him back out into the world again...

He walked through the streets, ignoring the Succubi blatantly attempting to catch his eye. There was a rather sizable crowd around the courtyard entrance of Philo's, and he suddenly knew exactly where she was.

"Sing it again!" someone cried.

Jareth moved closer and slipped through the crowd. Once at the front of the crowd he stared for a long moment at the scene before him, in shock.

"I've already sang it three times!" Sarah bobbed and weaved a bit, obviously about to pass out. The Goblin King would have moved forward, but he was actually curious as to what exactly she could have sung to catch the attention of all these people. There were jeers from the crowd and she rolled her eyes, staggered, and nearly fell off the table she stood upon. "Okay, okay!" She sighed in exasperation. "I'll sing..."

Then, she began singing the bawdiest song Jareth had ever heard in his considerably long life. That included the ones the goblins sang, and heaven knew that when they wished it, they would and could peel paint off the walls with their voices and lyrics.

Jareth saw the people listening rolling in laughter, including a well rounded pregnant woman who was sitting between two Incubi at a table not far away. He covered his mouth with his hand, hopefully wiping the traces of his own smile away. He focused curiously on the woman who'd replaced the girl he'd known.

The five years had clearly been good to her, he thought. Her lightly freckled face glowed alight with joy and - quite probably - intoxication, and those moss green eyes were bright and filled with mischief. The innocence he'd seen before had obviously faded, if the lyrics she sang loudly were any evidence at all. He could see the faintest blush upon her cheeks, which while possibly caused by consuming what he could only assume to be a great deal of ale, he supposed could also, possibly, be due to embarrassment about singing this song to a room full of strangers.

Then, as he watched, her eyes rolled up in her head, the mug slipped from her fingers and she began to tip forward. Jareth moved forward, catching her easily as she fell, his eyes no longer amused. The courtyard went very quiet and he shifted his grip on Sarah, hoisting her over his shoulder. A glance around found many pale faces and three genuinely concerned ones. "Sebastian," Jareth greeted a familiar face amongst the three who appeared to know Sarah.

"My Lord," the incubus greeted in return, bowing shortly - a tad shorter, in fact, than was truly proper. There was a twinge of tension in his hazel eyes. "Where are you taking the lady?" he asked worriedly.

Jareth considered the question, then, he smiled mockingly. "No harm shall come to the Lady Sarah, save that which she has caused herself." He inclined his head, daring anyone to challenge him. The slightly younger incubus started to rise, looking remarkably as if he wanted to. "I wouldn't if I were you," Jareth warned lightly, his smile turning cold. Then he vanished, taking Sarah with him.

Lynnea frowned, looking up at Sebastian in concern. He simply squeezed her shoulder.

Jareth reappeared in his chambers, flopping the girl-turned-woman onto his bed and stroked her hair back from where it had fallen loosely around her face. He drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. She'd barely changed. A few inches taller, her lips lightly colored pinkish-peach, her hair just a little longer and she had acquired some lovely curves with age. She was had grown even more beautiful.

He _should_ return her to her world, here and now.

Jareth was not prone to brooding, nor was he prone to pining. As the formidable Goblin King, he was accustomed to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. He had seldom been denied anything he desired. Except this girl – _woman_ – his mind reminded him as his eyes swept over the curves which had filled out since last he had seen her. He clenched his hands into fists, stalking across the room.

He considered her ensemble for a moment, deciding she'd be more comfortable in something else. With the snap of his fingers, there was a faint poofing sound. When he looked back, she no longer wore the jeans and t-shirt she'd been wearing. In its stead was a much smaller, much shorter t-shirt which was curiously emblazoned with the name "Ziggy Stardust", and pants which were electric blue and cotton. What bizarre nightwear the girl owned.

Jareth scoffed. What kind of name was Ziggy, anyway? Perhaps he should bestow it upon the next goblin unfortunate enough to irritate him.

He would have to speak with her when she woke, although he suspected she'd be in something of a sour mood. If she was planned to continue with these adventures, she had to understand the consequences of her actions. Of course, he thought with a smirk, she would most certainly proclaim that there being consequences to her action were..._not fair_. He settled himself on the settee across the room from her and closed his eyes. He promised himself he would, as much as was possible, be generous.

Regardless, he thought, remembering somewhat fondly a confrontation in a tunnel and a defiant girl with glittering eyes, this was going to be difficult. Things always were with her.

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	6. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: In this chapter, there is a nod towards Pika and her web fancomic GND. I'm sure you'll recognize it.

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Memoirs of the Underground

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Chapter 5

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Sarah's return to the world began when piercing light from the sun outside the window hit her dead in the face. A ragged moan of pain escaped her lips and she curled into a fetal position, pulling the pillow over her head. 'Hm, Karen must have switched fabric softeners...this smells good...' she pondered idly, while realizing perhaps it would be less torturous if she didn't think at all. The throbbing behind her eyes was so intense it made her wish she had a swift way of ending her life.

"Ow..." she mumbled, knowing with glaring certainty she didn't want to open her eyes. She rolled her back to the window, desperately wishing that she could go back to sleep, but that intense throb caused tears to gather in her eyes. "Ow...dammit..." she moaned, finally throwing the pillow away and digging the palms of her hands into her eyes. "Oh god...I'm never drinking again, I don't care if it's the last thing in heaven or on Earth..."

"Allow me," a soft, cultured and very _familiar _voice offered.

She felt a leather clad finger gently touch her forehead and her eyes popped open, a chill of something between fear and excitement settling into the pit of her stomach. Then again, that twisting sensation could, she thought, simply be her stomach longing to void what she'd consumed the night before. As the pain faded, one golden eye and one blue drifted in her vision. Her breath caught as she stared up at her arch nemesis for the first time in five years. He was still so intimidating, so potent that she felt a little...inferior – or perhaps inadequate – in his presence.

She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't manage to ask what she wanted to know. "You're the Goblin King." She cringed, realizing immediately that she'd just managed to say something completely stupid and wanted to hit herself.

As she stared as his elegant face she saw her comment had resulted in that same arrogant, mocking smile she remembered so well from the night five years ago, when she'd first said those words. He withdrew his hand, stood up and walked away from her, his lithe body clad in those wickedly tight dark gray pants and that ridiculously over-worked white poet's shirt.

"I'm still sleeping," Sarah realized suddenly. Of course, this was a dream! "Let's see..." She pinched herself as hard as she could and blinked in surprise. "OW! Wait, that means-" She glared at Jareth. "How did I _get_ here?!" Her voice was just a hair away from hostility.

He turned back towards her, not looking at her face, his own a cool mask. "How do you think, my dear girl? Did you think you would wander the Underground and I _wouldn't _hear of it? I learned of your presence in one of the less savory areas of the Underground and went to assure your safety. I arrived to find you standing on a table singing the most obscene song I've ever heard in my life." He smirked faintly. "Which considering my age and the company I keep, is saying something, my dear." He flipped a hand as if to indicate that wasn't important, which to him, it probably wasn't. "You passed out, and to put it simply I brought you here, made sure you were comfortable and watched over you so that you wouldn't choke on your own bile in your comatose state."

Sarah glanced down, saw the outfit she was wearing and blushed darkly. "How did you get my pajamas?!" she screeched.

His eyes ran over her figure, clad in the loose cotton pants and that too small t-shirt, with the obscenely large print reading "Ziggy Stardust". She felt somewhat violated by the visual caress. He inclined his head, a wicked smirk turning up the corners of his lips. "Isn't your real question, how I got you into them?" He let that hang on the air while watching her go from angry red to embarrassed. His smirk broadened as though he was pleased with her reaction.

Sarah began sputtering when the look of amusement on his face died. Instead, his face was extremely serious, almost frightening.

He began pacing around her, his hands tucked behind his straight back, his eyes not meeting hers. "You can imagine, I'm sure, my surprise to learn you were traipsing around the Underground. Sneaking in through the secret entrances to dally around..."

Sarah scowled. "It's not like I didn't have a reason-"

"Your reason is irrelevant. This is twice now that you have crept into my territory without invitation. There are reasons those entrances are not advertised, and you are putting a great many people both above and below in danger. This is unacceptable, Sarah." He stopped, looking at her, his face an unfamiliar mask. "This has to end before irreparable harm is done."

Sarah crossed her arms, wondering what it was about this man that always managed to infuriate her. "That's-"

"Not _fair_?" He asked, turning and facing her fully, getting well within the acceptable six inches of her personal space. "Now you know better than to say that, precious. You learned that your first time in the Underground."

She stood so that she'd have the illusion of being on equal footing. She glared up at him, arms crossed over the word Ziggy, making eye contact. "You want me to stop seeing my friends in Wiccadale and the Den?" She asked coldly, pretending she didn't feel her insides jumping in excitement at being this close to him. It had been ages. God, _that's_ what she smelled as she was waking up?! The bed had smelled of _him,_ she realized, cinnamon, spice and everything nice...yum-my.

Caution, train of though on the verge of complete derailment, she thought, a feeling perhaps a tad uneasy at her discovery that the gossiping ladies of Wiccadale were _right_. He _was _attractive! For the first time, she found herself studying the assets that she'd been distracted from before, even the most difficult one to avoid noticing.

He saw the coldness in her eyes mingling with heat and something he could almost recognize and moved even closer, staring at her, his chest bumping her arms. "You are to stay out of the Underground," he confirmed. "Completely. No more little excursions. Ever."

She inhaled deeply, preparing to yell, and then realized that she had something much better to say. "Make me," she said evenly, her head tilting to the side with her attitude. She saw the faintest flash of surprise on his face before it was hidden behind a mask.

Jareth took a deep breath, trying to maintain his calm. Would this insufferable chit never make things easy on him? Then again, he had always liked a challenge. "Sarah, this is no time to be stubborn-"

"I'd say it's the perfect time. What part of 'you have no pow-"

His hand flattened over her mouth and he gave her a glare. His lips were twisted into a frown of disapproval. "If you say that, I'll do more than make you stay home, I'll also seal up the portal your little friends have been using to visit." He said coldly. "I've been as generous with you as I can allow myself to be."

She glared over his hand and then shoved it away. "Is _that_ what you call it? Oh, Sarah, long time no see. Here, let me prove that I'm still an overdressed, arrogant, self-absorbed, preening _control freak_!" she snapped, stepping away from him, throwing her hands up in the air. "You know what Goblin King, you can take your generosity and stick it into whatever orifice you'd like!" She walked around the bed, looking for her clothes from the night before.

He listened to her barrage of words quietly, grinding his teeth together, trying to keep from throttling her in his frustration. He placed a hand over his face, counting slowly to ten before he spoke again. He would have to tread carefully if he didn't wish to alienate her completely. "I might be be willing to compromise," he said in a voice which was cool and detached. Inside, however, he was Mount Vesuvius on the verge of an eruption. If she didn't accept his deal, he would toss her out of the Underground and seal _all _the entrances she'd made in her home. "If you would kindly set your ire aside and listen to me."

She paused, looking towards him, frowning. She crossed her arms. "Compromise?" She snorted. "You?" She may as well have tried goading a statue. She got no response at all. It was a little disarming when he didn't bristle, didn't fight back. She noticed the irritation in his eyes behind the cool expression and felt a strange fluttering in her stomach.

The Goblin King seemed...different this time.

He looked at her, his face calm. "It's not unheard of, precious," he taunted after a moment. His index finger slid restlessly over his lips before it next tapped his cheekbone for a moment. He removed that hand from his face, beginning to pace, hands tucked at the small of his back. "As this is not likely your fault alone, it seems...inappropriate to divest you of your new friends. As your new companions are my subjects and might voice complaints at your inability to periodically come visit with them, a compromise would save me a great deal of trouble and paperwork."

She looked at him, uncertain. She didn't know how to deal with this Goblin King. He wasn't acting like an adversary, like an enemy, and that's who he'd always been to her. She watched him pause, seeming to glance at her from the corner of his eyes. She couldn't stop her eyes from raking over his figure, much as his had examined her own before. That tall, slender build, high, chiseled cheekbones, aristocratic face. Wild, seemingly uncontrollable mane of silvery-blond hair. His legs were strong, well defined, and she blushed a bit as her eyes eyed his backside, unable to contain her curiosity.

She told herself that it was just for the information of the ladies in Wiccadale. When he turned towards her, she jerked her eyes back up to his face, relieved that he hadn't noticed her checking out his firm backside. She bit back a blush.

"The only allowance I am willing to make is this, give me one week. I will learn the destination of the entrances in your home. I will mark the ones you are permitted use of, and those are the _only_ places in the Underground I'd better ever find you."

She blinked, seeing the frustration in every movement of his body, every step of his feet. "You're saying I can come back...visit my friends?" She eyed him, uncertain of his intentions.

He stilled, looking towards her, seeing puzzled confusion in her gaze. He suddenly felt a little trapped and did what made sense to him. "Do you wish me to change my mind?" he said coldly, his eyes narrowing as he stepped towards her. It galled more than a little that she didn't sop his ego by stepping back, or even cowering a little. Instead, she set her hands on her hips, stepping forward to meet him, looking up at him with that stubborn set to her mouth.

"Okay, Goblin King, you've got yourself a deal." She thrust her hand towards him. She shook his hand firmly, then held her hand out. "Now, can I have my other clothes and an opportunity to change, so I can go home?"

Mild amusement flickered through his otherwise impersonal gaze, and he waved a hand, a smug grin turning up the corner of his lips at the shock on her face when she saw her pajamas were gone, and she was once again clothed in the white t-shirt and blue-jeans she'd been wearing the night before. She blinked, looking up at him in surprise. She felt her pulse leaping uncontrollably in her chest when his eyes met.

He leaned closer. "Close your eyes, Sarah." He said softly, his voice a pleasant rasp not far from her ear. "And count to ten."

That damn smell of his swept under her nose again and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to tell herself that she wasn't feeling a tingling in the pit of her stomach from his proximity and praying that he couldn't hear her heart beating. "One...two...three..."

Jareth watched her count and lightly touched her forehead and watched her slowly disappear. "I'll see you very, _very_, soon, precious..." he murmured softly, bringing his lips close to her ear mere seconds before she vanished completely.

Sarah's eyes snapped open and she found herself standing in front of her house, looking at the front door. Her jaw sagged and she scowled, knowing the insufferable jerk was laughing at her from his castle. With a heavy sigh, she tested the doorknob, pushed the door open and was nearly tackled.

"Sarah Williams, where on Earth have you _been_?"

Sarah was jerked into the house by Karen. Her step-mother looked furious. "Uh...Morning." She said calmly, although she felt a surge of discomfort. She stood there, waiting for the inevitable explosion which she knew was on it's way. It came swiftly and with great strength.

"'Morning'?! Your father and I come home last night and you're _gone_, and no one knew where you were! We were worried sick! Where have you been?!" Karen inhaled, about to start in again and blinked. "You...you smell like...beer!"

Sarah wanted to swear soundly and wondered if the Goblin King would mind terribly if she wished her step-mother away. Or begged him to reorder time for her.

"Young lady, have you been drinking? You do realize you're underage?" The woman obviously couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. She tried, Sarah could tell she tried.

She watched her step-mother's hands clench convulsively and Sarah took several soothing breaths. "Karen-"

The woman gave her a slashing look. "Go to your room. You're restricted to that room until your father gets home."

Struck dumb, Sarah stared at her, jaw gaping. Then, she charged forward. "You're _grounding me_?" Sarah asked, stunned. "I'm twenty years old. If I want to stay out all night, it's none of your business-"

"Sarah, I...don't know what to say to you right now. Please, for now just go to your room."

She considered what to say for a long moment, then sighed. "May I please explain?"

"Sarah-"

"Yes, last night I was drunk. I was hanging out with friends and I got a little carried away. An acquaintance let me stay at their house, and watched over me." She felt her cheeks warm at the knowledge that the person who'd made sure she didn't harm herself was none other than her villain from five years ago. "I'm sorry.

Karen lowered her gaze. "I understand. I still need you to go to your room for awhile. I...need to think."

Sarah sighed softly, nodding. "Okay." She moved up the stairs and closed her door behind her. If only those little monsters had kept their nose in their own world. "Evil little..." She muttered, but was unable to think of a word to describe their behavior before throwing herself down on her bed. Her pillow muffled her final word.

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It had been almost four days since she'd been grounded by Karen. If anything, being restricted to the house had managed to make her feel even more isolated from the world than normal. That didn't bother her usually. She could hide herself in her room and read for days, however, this seemed like almost too much.

It was true, she didn't have many she would call friends in this world. She only really ever spoke to people at school, and mostly then it was with her teachers, those who had tried and failed to achieve their dreams, resigning themselves to _teaching_ so that they would not end up living out of a cardboard box on the street. They had let go of their dreams, and often she would ask 'why'. She didn't understand voluntarily letting one's dreams go, and wanted to know the consequences behind her actions.

Sarah had taken to avoiding Karen and her questions about that evening whenever possible. If she wasn't working, she'd hide in her room and during meals, she'd entertain herself by telling Toby stories. She ignored the questions if she'd been drinking with friends from school and deftly fended off her father's inquiries about the situation as well.

However, the near-isolation from everyone was beginning to take a tole on her and she was beginning to wonder if she would be able to wait three more days before going back to the Underground.

Still, she'd made a deal with _him_ that she wouldn't attempt to visit until he found out where all of the entrances in her house led. What made her uncomfortable, however, was the memory that he'd seemed to not want her to not come visit at all at first. The memory that he'd gone back on deals before and had really given her no proof that he'd let her back into the underground wasn't very comforting either. She scowled remembering how after she'd been told by him she'd have thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth, the dirty cheat had stolen three of them.

This afternoon, she sat in front of her mirror, knowing there was at least one way to get the conversation she craved as well as check and see if the portals were still open. She chewed on her lower lip, staring at that mirror. She really needed someone to talk to, and there'd been no proof that he'd broken his promise. She had no justification to go through a doorway yet. "Hoggle? Ludo? Sir Didymus? Is anyone there? I really need to talk to you..."

Hoggle's face swam into her vision and she sighed in relief. She hadn't realized how badly she'd missed talking to someone about anything until she'd looked upon the face of her friend. However, his words weren't comforting. They were hurried. "Can't righ' now, Sarah. That rat, Jareth, is calling for us."

She sighed, disappointed. "Oh..." she said softly. She tried to give him a smile, but ended up looking rather pathetic. "Later then? Maybe tonight?"

"If we can get back in time." Hoggle shrugged. "Jareth's been funny lately, funny as he can get, I s'ppose. Goblins been real busy too. Dunno why, tho." He noticed the disappointment and strain on her face and firmed his spine. "Screw that preening peacock, wha's wrong?"

She laughed at the idea and covered her mouth when she heard a curious call from her step-mother. "I'm certain the Goblin King is not interested in you like that, Hoggle." She promised the dwarf, who's lips twisted into a grin. "It can wait. I'd hate to get you into any more trouble with said peacock. You should go ahead and see what he wants."

Hoggle smirked, nodding, then disappeared from sight.

Sarah felt the grin fall away after Hoggle was gone. No real point in keeping up pretenses. She wasn't okay. She felt lonely, and Sarah hated that feeling.

When had she realized that she wasn't happy here? She loved Toby, and her father, and had developed some kind of affection for Karen as well, but often she felt more like an outsider in her own world than in the Underground where the towns she'd visited had opened their arms and welcomed her in.

With a heavy sigh, she looked up at her clock. She had her acting class tonight. While she adored Shakespearean plays, she truly wasn't in the mood. She considered briefly calling in sick, but that would mean another uncomfortable dinner dealing with her step-mother about her indiscretion with the ale, dodging more questions. That simply wasn't something she wished to do again today.

Instead, she dug through her closet, finding a comfortable t-shirt with the words 'Space Oddity' printed on it and her nicest jeans, dressing and staring at herself in that mirror. She snatched up her brush, dragging it through her hair with a resigned sigh.

Her first trip into the Underground had been a wonderful adventure, like from her Labyrinth storybook, with a dark, frightening edge, but she was beginning to wonder if her experience might not have colored heavily by the book and the slightly overly dramatic entrance of the Goblin King. Wiccadale had been bright and open, and while the Den was a little dark, it was more of a carnal carnival than anything...bad.

For a moment, she wondered if calling the others would work from the mirror. "Morghanne?" She asked quietly.

There was nothing. "Sebastian? Lynnea? Teaser?" Still nothing. She frowned faintly. She briefly entertained the possibility of calling _the Goblin King_ of all people, if for no other reason, to see why he needed Hoggle right then and try to weasel him into letting Hoggle go a little early so she might be able to have a conversation with him. But since the aforementioned dwarf and her other friends were going to see him, she suspected that he'd likely be busy as well.

With a sigh, she rubbed a hand over her heart, trying to ignore the subtle ache there. She grabbed her messenger bag, which was filled with her books and decided it was time to head to class. She left her room and found Karen heading up the stairs.

Her step-mother looked uncomfortable, the expression causing Sarah to pause. "Is something wrong?"

"Dinner will be done soon." She wrung her hands together.

Sarah sighed softly. "It's Tuesday. My theater class starts in about an hour, so I have to head out now."

Karen's uncomfortable expression didn't ease. "Sarah, I would like the opportunity to speak with you tonight, over dinner would be easiest, because your father can distract Toby."

She felt a moments pity for her step-mother, but shook her head. "I have to get to class. I need to get out of the house, or I'm going to go nuts. Besides, there's really nothing to talk about. I made a stupid mistake by drinking, and then I got caught. I know this. I can't handle your condescending tone or your implications that if I'd gone to the school you wanted, it wouldn't have happened."

The woman's eyes closed, and her face was pained. That pity Sarah felt grew. Karen didn't really know how to be a mother to her. It had been glaringly clear over the years she'd been married to her father that she didn't understand Sarah, and probably never would. Sarah patted the woman on the shoulder as she passed, heading towards the car. As she opened the door, Karen's voice stopped her again. "If you're going to be late...please call. Your father and I do worry about you."

Sarah smiled faintly, turning and seeing Karen standing there, her expression uncertain. "Don't worry, Karen. I'm not going to disappear again. I promise." Before Karen could say anything else, Sarah was out the door, in her car and heading down the street.

When she reached the school parking lot, she turned off the car, leaning her head back against the head rest, idly wondering what the ramifications would be for her wishing _herself_ off to the Underground. No, that was stupid, she shouldn't even let the thought whisper through her head. For all she knew, according to the Goblin King, a mental wish was close enough. Besides, Toby needed her to be there for him, to embrace his love of fantasy, something their parents would never be able to do.

She couldn't do that to him.

It _was_ rather tempting, though...

She smiled wryly. As if she and the Goblin King could live in the same realm and not eventually kill each other. There was no helping the fact that she was attracted to the man, but his attitude was in desperate need of a makeover.

She paused, considering that. In reality, she didn't have the right to talk about him in such a manner. She had spoken to him five times, tops, and while their conversations were hardly civil, he had always been honest with her. The things she noticed most about him during each of their interactions with each other were his expressions. While his arrogance and self-confidence always flowed freely from him, there were other times, when she'd see a flash of...something else, just seconds before it was hidden behind a mask of indifference.

Even five years ago, that last confrontation, she'd said those words and his face had gone from persuasive to emotionless, almost cold. Like a marble statue.

In incredibly tight pants.

She shook that thought from her head, opening her eyes before her mind was able to conjure the image of him strutting across that dark bedroom. Deep down, a secret part of her felt very bad for his royal highness's family jewels. She couldn't imagine that was particularly comfortable for them...

She groaned in frustration, fisting her hands in her hair. "Stupid little gits. If they'd just left my underwear alone, I would have been quite happy to not have to think of that guy as anything other than the villain he'd been in my memories. I would have been better off." Especially since now that she wasn't an innocent fifteen year old, and was thinking with a woman's mind, she found herself drastically more interested in what was hidden beneath said pants.

It didn't help that the scent of him had made her want to rub up against him. It was like catnip, sweetly spicy, and so sensual. It made her want to do very not-ladylike things involving a pair of cuffs and a feather duster.

Dammit.

Sarah shoved her improper little fantasies out of her head, suddenly very aware that she was caught between dreading and longing for the Goblin King's visit later that week. Hm, she'd have to make sure they had chocolate sauce in the fridge, her inner voice muttered and Sarah put her head in her hands, groaning in despair.

Heaven help her, she was having erotic fantasies involving handcuffs, feathers, and chocolate - featuring the Goblin King!

She shook the lingering fantasies out of her head and got out of her car, heading towards the school. She took out her book of Shakespearian plays and flipped through to the one they'd be working on that day. She'd read Cymbeline two years ago, for fun, acting out the part of Imogen in the park she'd always played in. She quite enjoyed it, despite it being in true fashion of all Shakespearian tragedies.

But at least it wasn't Romeo & Juliet.

She skimmed it once again, humming a song as she went, unaware that she was being watched by a barn owl.

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Jareth watched the class gather from the shadows, using a shield to hide himself from the sight of the mortals, his eyes falling upon Sarah as she entered, looking weary and worn. From what he'd gleaned from Hoggle, the dwarf was in a hurry to return to where he could contact the girl and didn't appreciate being sent on an errand. Jareth didn't bother telling the little fool that the errand he was completing was for none other than the girl Jareth was currently watching.

The goblins had located all the entrances in her house, and when they'd told Jareth all the locations they went to, he'd suffered from the deep urge to cast every one of the goblins rambling at him into the bog. There were no less than forty-two entrances in her home. Every single dark corner had been turned into an entry into the Underground. Their blue print had stunned him, because it wasn't simply that there were many, it was that more than half of them could drop her in places that were within his own castle.

He supposed it was simply the result of there being two powerful dreamers in one house. He wasn't about to start babbling on about things like fate or the like, simply because he knew after so many years, fate was something that was controlled by the person, not some whimsical god or creature that caused things to happen. Fate was a man's excuse for failing.

Jareth would not blame his failings on anything other than where the fault truly lay - squarely on his own shoulders. It was not fate which led Sarah to speak those words that spat on the strange feelings he'd only begun to notice. Fate did not order Sarah to follow the goblin into her closet, hence revealing the secret entrances. Destiny was not to blame for his inability to have a civil conversation with the frustrating vixen who was sitting on the opposite side of the class from his darkened corner.

No, it wasn't fate. He had failed to capture enough of her interest to leave her curious, wanting, five years ago. He'd been remiss in disciplining his subjects for unexpected forays into the Above, which led to the mortal finding her way back to the Underground. His inability to understand her made him temperamental, which led to conversations which were on the edge of being actual arguments, without the raised voices.

Well, perhaps without _his_ raised voice.

"Alright, class, Cymbeline!" The teacher practically bounced into the room, standing in front of the circle of desks. "William Shakespeare, who wants to start us off today?" Jareth shuddered. The man was almost _perky_.

"It's a romance!" one student said.

"It's a tragedy!" argued another.

Sarah leaned back in her chair, flipping through the pages of the thin book before her. "Actually, it's both. It has elements of romance and tragedy. Imogen marries Posthumus, against her father's wishes, leading to Posthumus being sent into exile. It has all the hallmarks of a Romantic Tragedy. It touches on innocence, jealousy, and let's not forget, the evil witch step-mother dies in the end..." Sarah muttered that last part with an especially sharp stab of venom.

Jareth arched an eyebrow in amusement from where he stood. He knew he should have watched her entering the house the day he sent her home.

"Very good, Sarah," the instructor said, standing. "Alright, everyone, flip through, find your favorite part, and we're going to recite them. Who would like to begin?"

Jareth tuned out the droning of the students stumbling through the lines of the play, many obviously uncomfortable with the rhythm, the syntax. The class went around the circle, but Jareth's eyes remained trained on the lovely Sarah Williams, who was calmly reading from her book, only glancing up when they changed to a different scene. He could tell she was paying attention, her lips moved silently along with whoever else was speaking.

When the circle got around to her, she flipped her book open to a page and began.

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun,  
Nor the furious winter's rages;  
Thou thy worldly task hast done,  
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:  
Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust."  
Jareth blinked in surprise. There was none of the awkward breaks, none of the hesitance in her speech. A part of him could see her where he first saw her, standing in that park, speaking these words as easily as she breathed. He smiled faintly, closing his eyes to listen.  
"Fear no more the frown o' the great;  
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;  
Care no more to clothe and eat;  
To thee the reed is as the oak:  
The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.  
Fear no more the lightning flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must  
Consign to thee, and come to dust.  
No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Ghost unlaid forbear thee! Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!"  
There wasn't a sound in the room, save the sound of the book in her hand flipping closed and the screech of her chair on the floor. Jareth opened his eyes, his eyes finding her again easily.  
Finally, the professor spoke. "You've been practicing, Sarah," the man said approvingly.  
A grudging grin turned up the corners of her lips. "Perhaps a bit," she agreed.  
That's my girl, Jareth thought, then blinked, wondering where that came from. She wasn't his, and at this rate, it was unlikely she would ever become such. Jareth closed his eyes, sighing softly, and leaned back into the shadows, fading, becoming part of them. For a moment, he thought she was looking at him, but there was no shock on her face, just the faintest hint of suspicion. He smirked when she stared at the corner he was hidden in for a little longer than what could count as a 'passing glance'.  
Clever girl...

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End file.
